This is the scariest part of any adventure. The gap between the comfort of knowledge and the unknown. I have just departed from my beloved town-my childhood play place. Where I’ve learned to overlook impurities and love the compressed space and smog-both leaving you gasping for air. The first time I experienced “fresh” air was a journey to California. Regardless of the affectionate sun and welcoming countryside, I was scared, even terrified. I was aching for a way out of my every day routine [and by everyday I mean every moment since I was a young child], but when I excitedly seized the opportunity I was unaware of the pain I’d endure. Leaving -20 winter conditions and arriving in the complete opposite +20 heat I was surprised. I guess until that point I had never really thought of a world outside of the dome that enclosed me. There was actually life beyond the horizon, the yellow canola fields and the gravel dirt roads. California may not be far, it’s in the same continent, barely a time difference, but I felt as though my world completely shook. There was a way of life, a language, traditions outside of my own. The entire 14 days of being away I dreamt of being at home. How could this be? All my life I imagined the day I’d leave the God forsaken town, and when I did I cried to return. After much travel in the past year I’ve learned that you do not truly respect your home until you leave it. I’ve heard ridiculous misconceptions of my country which instinctively brought out a feisty defence, and I’ve also heard citizens of another nation sing my anthem much more proudly than I. I will always recollect the memory of Guatemalan children [who know no english] sing the sweet words “the true north, strong and free” with such honour. And in the midst of the crowd I sung with my mind and not my heart, forgetting a word here and there, and the reality of the matter hit me like a train: I had no firm roots. Sure I had a Canadian flag on my suitcase and a passport to prove my belonging, but I did not have the unwavering stance upon the dark, luscious soil of the North. Tears trickled down my face similar to the rain on the window of the bus in which I’m situated now. I adored my home. It is everything to me. The cracked concrete where I learned to ride a bicycle, the corner store that served me candies when I earned money, the flame of the oil factory that’s always burning, the playground where I had my first kiss, first fight, first everything. No matter how far I run that will remain a part of me. In that moment, and many moments after I chose to embrace that my roots are historically planted and bloom in beautiful Saskatchewan. I can now proudly say the words I once cursed: I love my home. As I rest against the trembling walls of the coach bus that seems to shiver also at the act of leaving home-I take time to embrace my current position. Once again I depart, but I have no idea of what to expect. So my mind wanders in bewilderment, occasionally disrupted by bright farm lights. Tomorrow I’ll be in a new place along with new smells, clothes and language, but one thing I know remains constant: I am strong and free just as the fathers who’ve raised me.
Why did I ever say goodbye? You are everything I love.
I am typically a person who despises the winter months. But this particular night is exceptionally beautiful. The moon is bold and bright-lighting my path home. If the ground was uncovered and matte fields went on for miles then the moon’s glow wouldn’t reflect, and the night would be black and empty. But on this frosted February eve there is far more than darkness. The ground glistens. The stars, few and far between, dance and twinkle. The trees stand firm, clustered here and there. They act as instruments, breaking the winds smooth trail creating whistled tunes. The clouds stroked across the sky, splotchy in some places add dimension. The birds who never migrated are nestled in their burrowed homes. The wolves cry out their song to the rhythms of the wind. And me-I observe in complete awe of nature’s harmonious night routine. Good night moon. I’ll await an encounter tomorrow.
Be audacious.
Be different.
Don’t be analytical.
Be anything that will profess the integrity of purpose
and creative ambition
against those who play-it-safe.
Don’t be a creature roaming commonalities
nor a slave to the ordinary.
Do not anticipate the future and all it bears,
today is yesterday’s future.
If you are not satisfied today,
you will not be tomorrow.
The ability to generate innovation lies within yourself.
A frown is a smile upside down,
positivity is about perspective.
Your faith must always be greater than your fears.
Always seek, promote and activate passion.
Love is the greatest gift to give or receive.
Be true.
Be selfless, humble, meek without losing sight of your worth.
Build a house on rock rather than sand.
Have a free spirit, don’t be bound to the world.
Breathe.
Watch the sun retire.
Climb the rocky mountains.
Sleep under the stars.
Most of all - shine bright in a world full of shadows.
Words
dropping out of nothing.
Mouths
always full of words.
Rage
gathers words together.
Silent ripples from loud violent stones
smooth out into the implacable arctic sea.
Staring at where they should be-
in his grasp, tight, at home.
But his hands are empty.
The evening sun lowers inevitably
while in him fury rises.
Silence smoothes into ice
and his dreams forever frozen.
No heat can melt his anger.
The river chuckles.
Man anchored to the ground
unable to catch his stolen gold.
All he has now
are words,
dropping out of nothing.
Angry words.
I want you to be my greatest friend. Nothing more and nothing less. I want to know what makes you, you. I want you to surprise me with a coffee. I want to laugh - a lot. I want to buy two different drinks and share them both. I want to lay my head upon your shoulder. I want to know each other’s thoughts and opinions. I want to cry in front of you. I want to have inside jokes. I want to discuss the desires of our hearts. I want late night drives and phone calls. I want to walk arm in arm in the park and to the theatre. I want adventures. I want the security of knowing you are always there. I want to cause mischief. I want to be spontaneous. I want to hang out with your family. I want to be honest. I want to read books in the same room. I want you to show me your anger, your hurt, your joy. I want to go to the fair. I want to climb trees and then sit and watch the sun set. I want to hike rocky mountains… Nothing more and nothing less, I want a friend.
The icy flakes fall softly, swiftly, delicately to the ground. Such a beautiful sight that has captivated me.
I have began to examine my anima and then compare it to the traits, roles and lifestyles of animals as I see fit. Today I feel like a turtle, more specifically a sea turtle. Life is moving past me like a speed boat, and I tumble about in the waves it produces. However, for right now I am okay with this. I move along at a steady speed observing my present surroundings with diligence. A fast paced life is tempting, but I don’t want the small factors to go unnoticed because they create the journey.
