There comes a time in our life when we must take stock of our decisions. Are we doing the best we can to live a higher and more fulfilling life? Are our egos confusing our actions? Are we running our lives or is it our habits and vices that make the rules? Finally, what is more important: our image or our identity?
I asked myself these hard questions recently. It was necessary to set my position and potential course direction for the rest of my life. It was time to become my own one-man-army.
Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I am clean. From drugs, and now I even dare to remove booze from my life. Not an easy choice, but surprisingly my resolve is strong. My birthday recently passed, only a couple of days ago, and I stayed sober. I drove my new car home in the early morning dawn and thought about where I have come from…even more so what I have survived.
Too many nights I stumbled home and crashed into walls. Kicked in doors because they stubbornly refused to yield to my shoulder. Passed out in my bed only to wake up, groggy, and oh so guilty. An empty wallet and a hazy memory of the night before. At some point I had to ask, “When does it all stop? When is enough really and truly enough?”
I always worried that if I gave up drugs, gave up alcohol, would my soul follow suit? There is an old saying about no junk, no soul for a writer. It is a mythical idealogy that a writer is nothing without a nasty habit. He or she has nothing to pull from anymore, and even worse, nothing to create for the future. No parties, no broken hearts, no empty, dusty bottles of whiskey, and no fragrant whisps of smoke filling the air with false inspiration.
I reflect back to another time for a moment. To a time when music was my salvation. I was encased in a body-cast, and only a few days out of a two-week hospital stay. I walked around my living room, headphones on, and listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers soulful harmony in my ears. I was so aware of the contraints in my life at the time. The headphone leash that limited me to a few feet of freedom. The fibercast tomb that trapped me in my body. One, a leash tethered to sanity; the other, a physical reminder of insanity. Yet, all I could do was walk back and forth, pace and pace, and taste life so palable on my lips. New life. Second chance.
There came a day, more like a morning in fact, when I knew it was time. I woke up with what may be my last hangover, groggy, guilty about an empty wallet, and a memory fading into the ether of my mind. I searched for my car in an underground concrete parking, fearful it was towed away. I retraced my steps, and realized in my confused state that I had walked right past it. When would enough be enough? That was the day. I had too much to lose now. I had a business, a future so promising that I could not afford to ignore warning signals. Pay attention, said the signals, pay attention before you give it all away for free. Pay attention.
This past week has been an escape from the trappings of drugs and booze, but a return to the beauty and freedom of music. It has been seven days full of parties, live music, and dancing under neon lights. Swaying, bouncing, swinging to powerful beats and real words from real people. I was surrounded by others with bottles to their lips, stumbled hitches in their steps, blurred lights in their vision. Loving life. But I was sober. It was so real. My outlet was real. To dance, sway, bounce to soulful harmony because I could. No constraints. No restrictions. No leash.
New life. Second chance. Freedom.
It is the first week. In two more months, it will be a year clean of drugs. I used to laugh when people asked me how long I was clean. It was one month, three months, even six. It was ephemeral at the time. Now it has been almost a year. There have been challenges and there have been many a test. But, I passed and each day continues on from the next with another opportunity to disappoint myself. That is what it comes down to for me. It is not the opportunity to fail but the opportunity to look at myself in the mirror in the morning…and be proud. So, it is one week. I wonder how long it will take before a year passes in single blink of an eye…I wonder.
Scattered all around me are pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I have been building this damn puzzle my whole life. Just when it is seemingly complete, I realize there is a missing piece. In frustration sometimes, I scatter all the pieces into the wind and then chase after them. Start all over again. Place them all on a flat surface and rebuild. Time after time. One piece fits here. Another piece fits there. Each one fits easier than the last. Gives me hope that the next piece will be the link to the complete puzzle. To a complete me. No missing pieces. More whole than the last time I put myself back together after I scattered my identity into the wind in frustration. Time after time and time again. I have come to see over the years that I am not forming an image after all. I am working on completing a master identity. An example, a change for others to see. For others to follow. At the very least, the change I need to follow in my own life.
With every day comes another day to walk one step in front of the next. One step at a time. One day at a time. I keep my head up and watch out for the signals, whether warning or warming, and think about one day at a time. I think about these goals that I set for myself and I smile. I am a soldier. So, it would make sense that my one-man-army keeps marching to its own beat. One day at a time.
Until we meet again, my friends. Until we meet again.
Peace and love.
“But my hand was made strong by the and of the Almighty. We forward in this generation...triumphantly. Won't you help to sing these songs of freedom? Because all I ever have...redemption songs. Redemption songs. Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery...none but ourselves can free our minds." - Bob Marley
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
My Own Sunroom
I move into my own place in a couple of weeks. No roommates. My own space. I started my own agency recently and will run my office out of this new place. I can't wait. However, I am procrastinating from packing. I am not a fan of packing. Never have been. This is more about inspiring myself to feel the energy and excitement of having my own place.
I wrote the following piece last fall. It seems fitting. It captures why I am in this moment at this very stage in my life. It's a reason behind why I chose life over destruction. Here you go, and may you enjoy.
"And this is our sunroom."
I looked around the room, every little corner filled with sunlight. There was such a natural calm to the room. Next to the picture window, just under the sill, sat a small table and some comfortable looking chairs. The whole place just begged me to sit down and just think for a while.
I was fourteen at the time and had never seen a room quite like this one. "A...a sunroom?" I finally stuttered out.
"Yes, sort of like our breakfast room," he said.
"But didn't we just pass that?" I asked him.
"No," he said and laughed. "That was our, um, hmmm...my parents call it the formal dining room."
I instantly thought of our small battered table in my kitchen. All the contrasts between my new friend and I flashed quickly in my mind. His big house with its own separate land placed just far enough away from his neighours. My small, pseudo-lego, government-subsidized townhouse that connected to two other identical ones to mine.
I thought of his lawn with its beautiful thriving trees and alive with its multi-coloured flowers. My house had a small patch of grass with nothing but a neatly mown face. I thought of the flower bed that Mom always attempted to grow each year, but how the soil was never rich enough.
He had two parents who could give him anything he wanted. My Mother was raising me on her own. I never needed. Anything. But he never even wanted. There was such a huge gap in the collective standard of living. I felt sick. The gap was so expansive and it threatened to swallow me whole if I ever jumped across it.
That was twenty years ago. I sit here now, typing away on my laptop, and think of how twenty years can do much to a man's confidence. It all truly started five years ago with a single phone call.
"I want to move in with you when I turn sixteen," she politely demanded over the phone.
"Okay," I said.
"And my room needs to have an ocean view," she whispered.
Okay, I said.
That was five years ago. I have been moving along the path to slow, but sure success ever since. Funny, but it took the words of my then-seven-year old niece to give me the initial push.
I've seen so many beautiful houses in my life. So much character in deep, dark mahogany handrails, in attics with so many rooms that it could be a house on its own, and yet each time the old familiar feeling returned. I always felt sick. It would never be mine.
Nice place, I would say. Then ask to use the bathroom and hope not to vomit.
Yet...I walked into what would be considered a mansion. It was monolithic. I gazed around. What a house. Piano. Chandelier. Vaulted ceilings. Large winding staircase. I joined the party outside and walked past the outdoor pool and the large, catered open bar.
"I could have this," I said to Sarah.
She smiled at me. "Yup."
"You only have so many years before she turns sixteen," she added.
"Yup," I said.
Not to state an old adage that time waits for no man, but...we only have so much of it. Once it's gone; it's gone. I see a tool-belt wrapped around my waist, hear the workers by my side, and taste the glistening sweat sliding down my skin. I can feel the blueprint design under my fingers. My house. Built with my own hands and the way I want it to be.
Anything is possible. While there is still time. I dream but I am now finally living those dreams. I have my own business and am almost finished the last edition to my memoir. I even have an editor now. Soon it will be pitched to publishing houses. I will be the agency that promotes it. It is not about the money, nor the thought of it, that drives and fuels me. No. Not at all.
It is the thought that one day I will sit in my own sunroom. With a table right next to the picture window, and just under the sill, a small table with some comfortable looking chairs. I will greet my sleepy-eyed niece as she walks in for breakfast and ask her..."How was your ocean-room view?" And Mom will follow in right behind her. I can't wait for that day.
Until we meet again, my friends. Until we meet again.
"I am looking forward to a sunrise where I don't have to face a storm to go outside. And here at last, with a new found understanding, all the baggage not withstanding, it means no more. And all is well. When I am looking into friendly eyes. Lo how their hands keep me warm and hang on tight....and that's my plan. Yeah that's my plan." - Justin Hines
I wrote the following piece last fall. It seems fitting. It captures why I am in this moment at this very stage in my life. It's a reason behind why I chose life over destruction. Here you go, and may you enjoy.
"And this is our sunroom."
I looked around the room, every little corner filled with sunlight. There was such a natural calm to the room. Next to the picture window, just under the sill, sat a small table and some comfortable looking chairs. The whole place just begged me to sit down and just think for a while.
I was fourteen at the time and had never seen a room quite like this one. "A...a sunroom?" I finally stuttered out.
"Yes, sort of like our breakfast room," he said.
"But didn't we just pass that?" I asked him.
"No," he said and laughed. "That was our, um, hmmm...my parents call it the formal dining room."
I instantly thought of our small battered table in my kitchen. All the contrasts between my new friend and I flashed quickly in my mind. His big house with its own separate land placed just far enough away from his neighours. My small, pseudo-lego, government-subsidized townhouse that connected to two other identical ones to mine.
I thought of his lawn with its beautiful thriving trees and alive with its multi-coloured flowers. My house had a small patch of grass with nothing but a neatly mown face. I thought of the flower bed that Mom always attempted to grow each year, but how the soil was never rich enough.
He had two parents who could give him anything he wanted. My Mother was raising me on her own. I never needed. Anything. But he never even wanted. There was such a huge gap in the collective standard of living. I felt sick. The gap was so expansive and it threatened to swallow me whole if I ever jumped across it.
That was twenty years ago. I sit here now, typing away on my laptop, and think of how twenty years can do much to a man's confidence. It all truly started five years ago with a single phone call.
"I want to move in with you when I turn sixteen," she politely demanded over the phone.
"Okay," I said.
"And my room needs to have an ocean view," she whispered.
Okay, I said.
That was five years ago. I have been moving along the path to slow, but sure success ever since. Funny, but it took the words of my then-seven-year old niece to give me the initial push.
I've seen so many beautiful houses in my life. So much character in deep, dark mahogany handrails, in attics with so many rooms that it could be a house on its own, and yet each time the old familiar feeling returned. I always felt sick. It would never be mine.
Nice place, I would say. Then ask to use the bathroom and hope not to vomit.
Yet...I walked into what would be considered a mansion. It was monolithic. I gazed around. What a house. Piano. Chandelier. Vaulted ceilings. Large winding staircase. I joined the party outside and walked past the outdoor pool and the large, catered open bar.
"I could have this," I said to Sarah.
She smiled at me. "Yup."
"You only have so many years before she turns sixteen," she added.
"Yup," I said.
Not to state an old adage that time waits for no man, but...we only have so much of it. Once it's gone; it's gone. I see a tool-belt wrapped around my waist, hear the workers by my side, and taste the glistening sweat sliding down my skin. I can feel the blueprint design under my fingers. My house. Built with my own hands and the way I want it to be.
Anything is possible. While there is still time. I dream but I am now finally living those dreams. I have my own business and am almost finished the last edition to my memoir. I even have an editor now. Soon it will be pitched to publishing houses. I will be the agency that promotes it. It is not about the money, nor the thought of it, that drives and fuels me. No. Not at all.
It is the thought that one day I will sit in my own sunroom. With a table right next to the picture window, and just under the sill, a small table with some comfortable looking chairs. I will greet my sleepy-eyed niece as she walks in for breakfast and ask her..."How was your ocean-room view?" And Mom will follow in right behind her. I can't wait for that day.
Until we meet again, my friends. Until we meet again.
"I am looking forward to a sunrise where I don't have to face a storm to go outside. And here at last, with a new found understanding, all the baggage not withstanding, it means no more. And all is well. When I am looking into friendly eyes. Lo how their hands keep me warm and hang on tight....and that's my plan. Yeah that's my plan." - Justin Hines
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Best of You
I ran into her today. Her hair was dyed jet-black and cut into ragged angles. She looked incredible. I thought about the man she now calls hers and walked away with a heavy heart. Then that small little voice, the same one that consoles me and pushes me, said, “Be happy for her. There is more waiting for you. Not someone else, but you. Find out who you are and find that balance you need in life. Find the best of you.”
I bit back tears, looked up at the blue sky, and thought of my life. I thought of a time when I fought to live in a hospital bed. I can do better. Not better as in better than her. That would not show her the respect she deserves. No. I can do better in life.
I wonder at times about being single again. Why it had to happen and why I have to be alone. I know why now. It only took me years of thinking and pondering and a chance meeting to resolve. I need this time not to get the best from someone else…but to get the best from me.
Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I have learned to let go of pain. I have learned its lesson and removed its presence from my life. It is the only way to push through in life without having something drag me from behind and hold me back. It is hard. I won’t deny that. But anything in life worth fighting for is hard. It is a reason to fight.
It all started in my childhood and the times I was pushed to the outside and forced to look in. Look into the fun, look into the laughter, but more importantly: to look within. I think my journey as a fighter started in those days. Pain was my worst opponent and always beat me down. To my knees. To the ground. To the dirt. Eat that it said. Eat that and live it.
It followed me. It taunted me. It tempted me. “You can run from me,” it said, “You can take that pill, snort that line, or smoke that joint. But, I will find you time and time again.” It played with me like a predator played with its prey…keeping me alive only to kill me time and time again in the end.
Time and time again. I even leaned on it as a friend leans on a friend. I sometimes wondered if pain followed me or if I followed it. I reveled in it. I licked my own wounds and sewed my own scars. I asked for it again and again. Give me more I said….gimme gimmie gimmie.
Some say that pain feels good. No fuck that. Pain is your body’s way of telling you something is wrong. Pain is a warning signal. Pay attention it says or you will be in a world of agony. I only finally realized a couple of months ago. I came to this conclusion on November 1st, 2007. That day, ironically enough, was eight years after I woke up in a hospital bed with a fractured skull and shattered back. That day, only months ago, was the day I decided to get clean from drugs. I lost everything that day. I lost her. I lost my pride. I even lost the trust of my mother. That hurt more than anything else. I started all over again. One more time.
I survived some really rough times these last number of months. So many moments of confusion and times of sadness…nights spent in solitude with only a pen, paper, and my thoughts. I was lost and yet so found. I put my head down, opened book after book, worked hard, and came out more alive than I have ever felt in my life. I made plans for me and no one else. I started to trust in me. I focused on me. I spent time with me. I became my own teacher.
I stopped looking into a future impossible to predict and took one day at a time. One more day without a drug is one more morning to look proudly in the mirror. That pride grows every single day. I have strength now that I don’t even comprehend. Life has opened up again. I feel like it is truly starting for the first time. I love that feeling. It is not the first time I have tasted it.
I would not be here now unless pain came again. It still visits now and then but we sit and talk like old friends. It tells me what is wrong and lets me figure it out on my own. “Don’t fear me anymore,” it says, “See me for what I am.” I smile more now. Pain is no longer that ravenous, mongrel dog feeding on the empty hole of my soul. It is my companion now. It pushes me. It shows me. It warns me. Be more it says. Be more and the less you will see of me.
It is real. I won’t deny that. But I have decided that happiness is the best way to fill that hole. Do what I want to do and take a risk for what I want in this day and time. Fight for it. Fight for my life. I walk out now into a beautiful sunny day and stare up at an empty sky. I see blue all around me. I see vast potential. I will feel the pain but I will resist the urge to taste it. I will refuse it past the point of warning. It understands.
I am that someone who needs the best from me. I want the best from me. I have not given that yet. No one else but me can give it either. I want the best from me now. Only I can give that. The best of me will be the rest of me.
So I search for balance now. A balance between extreme highs and extreme lows. A steady flow of positive feelings and positive thoughts. I feed on something entirely new now. Something better than I can even imagine. I have never felt so honoured to be in this joy we call life. I am not on this road alone. There are many to keep me company. Walk with me. Learn with me. Live with me. Find the best of you.
Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.
“Has someone taken your faith? It’s real. The pain you feel. The life. The love. You’ve got to heal. The hope that starts the broken heart. Your trust. You must. Confess. Is someone getting the best of you, the best, the best, the best of you? Is someone getting the best of you, the best, the best, the best of you? I’ve got another confession my friend. I’m no fool. I’m getting tired of starting again…somewhere new. Were you born to resist? Or be abused? I swear I’ll never give in. I refuse.” – Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters
I bit back tears, looked up at the blue sky, and thought of my life. I thought of a time when I fought to live in a hospital bed. I can do better. Not better as in better than her. That would not show her the respect she deserves. No. I can do better in life.
I wonder at times about being single again. Why it had to happen and why I have to be alone. I know why now. It only took me years of thinking and pondering and a chance meeting to resolve. I need this time not to get the best from someone else…but to get the best from me.
Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I have learned to let go of pain. I have learned its lesson and removed its presence from my life. It is the only way to push through in life without having something drag me from behind and hold me back. It is hard. I won’t deny that. But anything in life worth fighting for is hard. It is a reason to fight.
It all started in my childhood and the times I was pushed to the outside and forced to look in. Look into the fun, look into the laughter, but more importantly: to look within. I think my journey as a fighter started in those days. Pain was my worst opponent and always beat me down. To my knees. To the ground. To the dirt. Eat that it said. Eat that and live it.
It followed me. It taunted me. It tempted me. “You can run from me,” it said, “You can take that pill, snort that line, or smoke that joint. But, I will find you time and time again.” It played with me like a predator played with its prey…keeping me alive only to kill me time and time again in the end.
Time and time again. I even leaned on it as a friend leans on a friend. I sometimes wondered if pain followed me or if I followed it. I reveled in it. I licked my own wounds and sewed my own scars. I asked for it again and again. Give me more I said….gimme gimmie gimmie.
Some say that pain feels good. No fuck that. Pain is your body’s way of telling you something is wrong. Pain is a warning signal. Pay attention it says or you will be in a world of agony. I only finally realized a couple of months ago. I came to this conclusion on November 1st, 2007. That day, ironically enough, was eight years after I woke up in a hospital bed with a fractured skull and shattered back. That day, only months ago, was the day I decided to get clean from drugs. I lost everything that day. I lost her. I lost my pride. I even lost the trust of my mother. That hurt more than anything else. I started all over again. One more time.
I survived some really rough times these last number of months. So many moments of confusion and times of sadness…nights spent in solitude with only a pen, paper, and my thoughts. I was lost and yet so found. I put my head down, opened book after book, worked hard, and came out more alive than I have ever felt in my life. I made plans for me and no one else. I started to trust in me. I focused on me. I spent time with me. I became my own teacher.
I stopped looking into a future impossible to predict and took one day at a time. One more day without a drug is one more morning to look proudly in the mirror. That pride grows every single day. I have strength now that I don’t even comprehend. Life has opened up again. I feel like it is truly starting for the first time. I love that feeling. It is not the first time I have tasted it.
I would not be here now unless pain came again. It still visits now and then but we sit and talk like old friends. It tells me what is wrong and lets me figure it out on my own. “Don’t fear me anymore,” it says, “See me for what I am.” I smile more now. Pain is no longer that ravenous, mongrel dog feeding on the empty hole of my soul. It is my companion now. It pushes me. It shows me. It warns me. Be more it says. Be more and the less you will see of me.
It is real. I won’t deny that. But I have decided that happiness is the best way to fill that hole. Do what I want to do and take a risk for what I want in this day and time. Fight for it. Fight for my life. I walk out now into a beautiful sunny day and stare up at an empty sky. I see blue all around me. I see vast potential. I will feel the pain but I will resist the urge to taste it. I will refuse it past the point of warning. It understands.
I am that someone who needs the best from me. I want the best from me. I have not given that yet. No one else but me can give it either. I want the best from me now. Only I can give that. The best of me will be the rest of me.
So I search for balance now. A balance between extreme highs and extreme lows. A steady flow of positive feelings and positive thoughts. I feed on something entirely new now. Something better than I can even imagine. I have never felt so honoured to be in this joy we call life. I am not on this road alone. There are many to keep me company. Walk with me. Learn with me. Live with me. Find the best of you.
Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.
“Has someone taken your faith? It’s real. The pain you feel. The life. The love. You’ve got to heal. The hope that starts the broken heart. Your trust. You must. Confess. Is someone getting the best of you, the best, the best, the best of you? Is someone getting the best of you, the best, the best, the best of you? I’ve got another confession my friend. I’m no fool. I’m getting tired of starting again…somewhere new. Were you born to resist? Or be abused? I swear I’ll never give in. I refuse.” – Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Just Part of a Journey
The bitter cold reaches into my lungs and yanks measured breaths out in crystallized puffs of air. I climb higher up the back of the mountain and leave behind an empty footprint with each step.
Sweat slides down my spine and pools at the base of my lower back. I tighten my grip on my board and flex my fingers over its base. I use it to chop into the snow in front of me and lean on it for extra support during the hike.
It is a beautiful cloud-less morning and it has been snowing for the last couple of weeks. There is plenty of powder to find. And, judging by the absence of tracks leading up the mountain in front of us, I could tell it was just me and my friends.
It was a stellar day for riding: fresh snow, good friends, steep cliffs, and big old empty bowls of pure bliss. What else could I ask for? I think about my question as I click into my bindings, ease off my edge, and drop off the first of what would be many cliffs that day.
Oh yes...that's right. I know what else to ask for. Even more so, what was needed. Progression. At that moment in my life, I knew the only true road to progression was the road that points to education. At that moment in time, education was only a mere couple of months down the road. Man...it came and went so quick.
Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I sat in a classroom today, surrounded by other students, and wrote the final exam of my degree. Four years later and it is all said and done. My degree may be done but my learning is only truly beginning.
I feel that my life is at an apex. I have reached the summit of the mother of all hikes and stand at the lip of the biggest cliff I ever seen. No fear. Once again, I do not hesitate to strap in, lean back, and make a running jump off the lip. I hate cliches, really I do, but in the end it is not the destination in life that matters...it really is about the journey. It is about the nicks and scrapes you receive along the way. It is about the wounds that score your skin and leave behind a permanent scar. It is about having your heart broken only so you can rebuild it stronger each time. It is about taking risks and either learning from the loss or reaping the reward.
I am so blessed. So many people stood behind me during these last years while I was in school. My best friend Steve, who watched over me in a hospital bed, my best friend Sophie who was there from the beginning of it all - she even drove me from the mountains across Canada. My professors who pushed me to excel. So many people.
And then...there is Gail.
My mother is my hero. She was there every single, iota, minuscule or large step of the way. She held my hand when I was alone, she rubbed my shoulders when I was tired, she fed me when I could not afford to feed myself. She shared my failures. She celebrated my successes. I never knew how to thank her over the years. Now I do. It is called being a university graduate.
This feeling is so hard to describe right now. I have worked so hard for a little piece of paper and yet the quantitative benefits are unmeasurable. The three little letters of BPR stand for so much more than Bachelor of Public Relations. It stands for late nights, early mornings, horrible headaches, travels to caribbean waters, a back tattoo, a loss of a friend, a couple of broken hearts here and there. It stands for being clean from drugs. No more foreign substances in my blood. It means being stronger than I even realize. It stands for a book I wrote that just passed its first round of edits with fabulous reviews. It stands for my new direction in life.
Today is not the same as yesterday, and tomorrow, tomorrow will never be the same as today. I have learned to wring and twist every little drop of life out of every day now. I am taken advantage of the opportunities to right the wrongs in my life. To not give up when I want to quit. To work harder when I am past the state of exhaustion. To laugh when I want to cry. To hold my head up and see the world around me.
I am proud of this. Proud is only a word from our simple language that could never capture the emotion inside or explain how I really feel. Our simple language could never capture the hard work that went into this. The fun times. The incredible times. The simply amazing people I have met. The pure unfettered happiness of the insanity called school. I will miss it so but I look forward to what comes next.
So, tonight I celebrate. Next week, I start a business plan for my own PR agency. Yup. I am going for the whole enchilada. I wonder if they will allow running on the stage when I go to accept my degree? One step down, Gail, and so many more to go. One day at a time.
Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.
"If I was young, I'd flee this town, I'd bury my dreams underground/As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight/Far from home, elephant gun/Let's take them down one by one/We'll lay it down, it's not been found, it's not around/Let the seasons begin - it rolls right on...let the season begin - take the big king down." - Zach Condon of Beirut
Sweat slides down my spine and pools at the base of my lower back. I tighten my grip on my board and flex my fingers over its base. I use it to chop into the snow in front of me and lean on it for extra support during the hike.
It is a beautiful cloud-less morning and it has been snowing for the last couple of weeks. There is plenty of powder to find. And, judging by the absence of tracks leading up the mountain in front of us, I could tell it was just me and my friends.
It was a stellar day for riding: fresh snow, good friends, steep cliffs, and big old empty bowls of pure bliss. What else could I ask for? I think about my question as I click into my bindings, ease off my edge, and drop off the first of what would be many cliffs that day.
Oh yes...that's right. I know what else to ask for. Even more so, what was needed. Progression. At that moment in my life, I knew the only true road to progression was the road that points to education. At that moment in time, education was only a mere couple of months down the road. Man...it came and went so quick.
Here you go, and may you enjoy.
I sat in a classroom today, surrounded by other students, and wrote the final exam of my degree. Four years later and it is all said and done. My degree may be done but my learning is only truly beginning.
I feel that my life is at an apex. I have reached the summit of the mother of all hikes and stand at the lip of the biggest cliff I ever seen. No fear. Once again, I do not hesitate to strap in, lean back, and make a running jump off the lip. I hate cliches, really I do, but in the end it is not the destination in life that matters...it really is about the journey. It is about the nicks and scrapes you receive along the way. It is about the wounds that score your skin and leave behind a permanent scar. It is about having your heart broken only so you can rebuild it stronger each time. It is about taking risks and either learning from the loss or reaping the reward.
I am so blessed. So many people stood behind me during these last years while I was in school. My best friend Steve, who watched over me in a hospital bed, my best friend Sophie who was there from the beginning of it all - she even drove me from the mountains across Canada. My professors who pushed me to excel. So many people.
And then...there is Gail.
My mother is my hero. She was there every single, iota, minuscule or large step of the way. She held my hand when I was alone, she rubbed my shoulders when I was tired, she fed me when I could not afford to feed myself. She shared my failures. She celebrated my successes. I never knew how to thank her over the years. Now I do. It is called being a university graduate.
This feeling is so hard to describe right now. I have worked so hard for a little piece of paper and yet the quantitative benefits are unmeasurable. The three little letters of BPR stand for so much more than Bachelor of Public Relations. It stands for late nights, early mornings, horrible headaches, travels to caribbean waters, a back tattoo, a loss of a friend, a couple of broken hearts here and there. It stands for being clean from drugs. No more foreign substances in my blood. It means being stronger than I even realize. It stands for a book I wrote that just passed its first round of edits with fabulous reviews. It stands for my new direction in life.
Today is not the same as yesterday, and tomorrow, tomorrow will never be the same as today. I have learned to wring and twist every little drop of life out of every day now. I am taken advantage of the opportunities to right the wrongs in my life. To not give up when I want to quit. To work harder when I am past the state of exhaustion. To laugh when I want to cry. To hold my head up and see the world around me.
I am proud of this. Proud is only a word from our simple language that could never capture the emotion inside or explain how I really feel. Our simple language could never capture the hard work that went into this. The fun times. The incredible times. The simply amazing people I have met. The pure unfettered happiness of the insanity called school. I will miss it so but I look forward to what comes next.
So, tonight I celebrate. Next week, I start a business plan for my own PR agency. Yup. I am going for the whole enchilada. I wonder if they will allow running on the stage when I go to accept my degree? One step down, Gail, and so many more to go. One day at a time.
Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.
"If I was young, I'd flee this town, I'd bury my dreams underground/As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight/Far from home, elephant gun/Let's take them down one by one/We'll lay it down, it's not been found, it's not around/Let the seasons begin - it rolls right on...let the season begin - take the big king down." - Zach Condon of Beirut
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Equal Footing
Prepared to go on my own.
Ask and
Then ask again some more.
Is it a new beginning?
Different life
Seen through different eyes?
Is it new ideas?
Clear suggestions
Heard from an open mind?
Is it physical?
New skin
Replacing old memories with body chemistry?
Is it emotional?
New feelings
Covering up dusty windows into my soul?
Is it jealousy?
What was once mine
Could not possibly be yours?
Is it me?
If it is in me
Will I ever know?
Search and
Then search again some more.
Ready to go on my own.
Ask and
Then ask again some more.
Is it a new beginning?
Different life
Seen through different eyes?
Is it new ideas?
Clear suggestions
Heard from an open mind?
Is it physical?
New skin
Replacing old memories with body chemistry?
Is it emotional?
New feelings
Covering up dusty windows into my soul?
Is it jealousy?
What was once mine
Could not possibly be yours?
Is it me?
If it is in me
Will I ever know?
Search and
Then search again some more.
Ready to go on my own.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My Thoughts
I am afraid to be alone with you sometimes,
Especially when the rain falls,
And evening pulls its dark hood over the sun’s eyes.
I refuse to be alone with you sometimes,
When I lay awake,
And breathe into that empty void.
I am terrified to be alone with you sometimes,
When there is no one else around,
And the silent ticking of wasted time falls faster and faster.
I breathe deep,
In and out,
Exhale and yet want to scream and shout.
Strong,
Strong,
Stand strong.
I need to be alone with you always,
It is the only way I can grow,
And understand what to remove and what needs to remain.
I have to be alone with you always,
To tell me everything will be okay,
And that the road ahead is sweeter than the road behind.
I want to be alone with you always,
Memorable times of days before,
And better days yet to come.
Especially when the rain falls,
And evening pulls its dark hood over the sun’s eyes.
I refuse to be alone with you sometimes,
When I lay awake,
And breathe into that empty void.
I am terrified to be alone with you sometimes,
When there is no one else around,
And the silent ticking of wasted time falls faster and faster.
I breathe deep,
In and out,
Exhale and yet want to scream and shout.
Strong,
Strong,
Stand strong.
I need to be alone with you always,
It is the only way I can grow,
And understand what to remove and what needs to remain.
I have to be alone with you always,
To tell me everything will be okay,
And that the road ahead is sweeter than the road behind.
I want to be alone with you always,
Memorable times of days before,
And better days yet to come.
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