The Autumn Daily

The Ultimate Battle

2008-09-08T23:16:00.000-07:00

I have a daily battle with God. Not with the elusive "all-knowing" being that no one can feel, hear or see, but the One who is ALWAYS there. The One who sits behind my eyes, curls up in my ears and who stands on my heart like a boulder.

Mostly we battle about the usual things - politics, religion, sex. But lately its been about me. Like, my soul, my joy, and my fears. The One seems to know what it is that I want, what it is that I search for like a moth in the night. And I try with all my stuburness and fortitude to ignore the truth that encircles me. But then it sits at my feet and I cannot ignore it any longer for I trip on it daily and it takes my feet right out from under me. Its only here when I'm on my knees that I admit that God has won one more battle. And that's what it is - a battle. A constant fight for what I feel is mine and what God knows is His.

And so the Ultimate Battle continues.

Eyes and Ears

2008-06-04T00:28:00.000-07:00

I need focus. I need perspective. I need to climb up to the top and look down so I can see my path – where I’m headed and where I may or may not end up. To myself I say I am worth the time, patience and gentleness that I give to others. To myself I say I can choose to accomplish whatever I want and I will succeed at anything I choose to. To myself I question why I have made decisions that keep me in a place of bitterness, self-doubt and suppression.

I have a strength inside that I know still exists – there is still that fire that drives me. Not all of it is gone. And I have faith that I will not be here forever. But we all must walk through valley’s. We must all feel pain. It is the human condition.

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a good cry. I plan on crying some this week. I plan on taking some time to sit with myself – sit with the good, the bad and the ugly – cry when I need to – laugh when I want to – and ultimately say hello to all that I have ignored for way too long. At least that’s what I hope to do.

I just want him to see that – to have to look at every single tear and realize that each one represents every time he lied, every time he cheated, every time he got high and represents every single lost moment, every minute I spent searching for him, every hour of our wedding day that never happened and every day that I grieve what I’ve lost.

It’s been almost a year and I’m still here.

Shit Scared

2008-03-26T00:26:00.000-07:00

I’m restless. I need space and free air. I feel like with every breath I’m paying for it.

And to stop speaking – I need silence. The kind that feels at weird at first, but really its just inexperienced peace of mind. I need space to hear myself not think – I need to know that its possible. I need to rely on myself – I need to dig a hole and plant my roots so I can grow. And I need sunlight. The kind that only shines on me and I when it does I wonder if I’m the only one in the world who experiences daylight.

Take my shoes off and run on the pavement. I’ve never minded walking on the dirt others leave behind them. The ocean washes it all off each summer. The winter has been a cold one and my bones feel brittle – my skin dry and my insides parched.

I really need to stop talking. Stop putting myself on the plank – I always fall off. And everyone’s getting tired of rescuing me. Throwing me lifelines, and life jackets and buoys. The red ones, the blue ones, the white ones. I’ve lost them all.

I need to stop sharing it all. Keep some it inside for me – just keep it to myself. They don’t want it and maybe if I hold it I’ll breathe it out with salty, cool breath instead of hot, quivering words. My hurt is mine – at least I have that. It’s a start. And hurt I do, but that’s too real for right now – I only want to say all things that scare me to say truthfully.

And its ironic. Truly. My firestation burnt down at the hands of my fireman. And maybe laughter doesn’t help. Maybe it masks it all but not in a real way, not even in a genuine way.

Ok Some real plain words. I'm really scared. Shit scared, really.

WHEN DOES THE PAIN STOP?

2007-08-17T15:20:00.001-07:00

Are you wondering when the pain stops?

The Pain Stops: when you stop looking at the person you love as the person you love, and you begin to see them, not as a partner, a lover, or a best friend, but as a human being with the strengths and weaknesses and even the core of a child.

The Pain Stops: when you begin to accept that what you would do in a circumstance is not what they would do, and that no matter how much you try, they have to learn their own lessons, and they have to touch the stove when it's hot, just as you did, to learn that it is much better when it is cold.

The Pain Stops: when your longing for them gets slowly replaced by a desire to get away, when making love to them no longer makes you feel cherished, when you find yourself tired of waiting for the moments where the good will truly outweigh the bad, and when at the end of the day you can't count on their arms for comfort.

The Pain Stops: when you start to look inward and decide whether their presence is a gift or a curse, and whether when you need them, they cause more heartache than bliss.

The Pain Stops: when you realize that you deserve more than they offer and stop blaming them for being less than you wish. When the smile of a stranger seems more inviting and kind, and you remember what it's like to feel beautiful, and you remember how long it has been since your lover whispered something in your ear that only the two of you would know.

The Pain Stops: when you forgive them for their faults and forgive yourself for staying so long. When you know that you tried harder than you ever tried before, and you know in your heart that love should not be so much work.

The Pain Stops: when you start to look in the mirror and like who you see, and know that leaving them or losing them is no reflection of your beauty or your worth.

The Pain Stops: when the promise of a new tomorrow is just enough to start replacing the emptiness in your heart, and you start dreaming again of who you used to be and who you will become.

The Pain Stops: when you say goodbye to what never really was, and accept that somewhere in the fog you may or may not have been loved back. And you promise yourself never again to lay in arms that don't know how to cherish the kindness in your heart.

The Pain Stops: When you are ready.

I'm not sure if I'll ever get to this spot - some of it must be true, but not all. At this point who knows. Everyone just says one day at a time. But tomorrow always seems like a lifetime away. If I could only sleep. And nobody gets it, nobody truly understands. Its easier from the outside, from the peripheral, to say the things that seem like they should bring peace. But nothing does . It's all hell - a deep, dark hell where night is day and day is night and nothing seems right. If I could only feel. If I could just sit in whatever emotions came at me - but it seems useless to force emotional satisfaction upon myself. It's too much work and I don't have the strength nor the knowledge to venture into that unknown quite yet.

Regardless - it's a nice poem a friend sent me and it seemed fitting no matter.

Today First, Tomorrow Second

2007-06-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

So, I've recently realized that it's almost two months to the day that I will become a married woman, a wife, a life partner - whatever word there is used to describe being betrothed to another person. It truly is a time in life that should be celebrated and remembered.

Over the last few weeks some things have happened in my relationship but also with others' around me that have caused me to really think about the meaning of marriage and what it means to be committed to another person. I have no doubt that every couple who enter into that partnership have battled with themselves, with God, with doubt. I suppose that should happen - in a way it makes it more real and more raw.

But I also wonder how many people actually understand that 'in sickness and in health' really means in SICKNESS AND in health. If my dad had been diagnosed with cancer months before my mom and him were to get married and he was given an 20% chance of surviving I'm sure my mom might have contemplated whether or not she wanted to marry him. Why would you want to go through such pain? If you had a choice, I'm sure many people would opt out. But he didn't - it was 30 years later and I doubt there was ever a thought in my mom's mind at that point about whether or not she would stay with my dad through his illness.

Dustin and I have certainly had our obstacles and I have all the faith in the world that there are many to come - but I guess the beautiful thing that I've come to realize is that I have made a choice to love him and be his partner in spite of all the shit that's thrown our way. And it doesn't matter to me whether I have a ring on my finger or I have the same last name as him - all of that is secondary to the commitment I made almost two years when marriage was still something I thought I'd never do.

God certainly has a plan and he definately knows how to test your ability to stick with it. But at the end of the day - it's the end of the day and you can sleep.

Back to School I Go!

2007-04-11T14:10:00.000-07:00

Well, as some of you may know I recently applied to the Child and Youth Care graduate program at UVIC and I just received a call saying I was accepted! So it seems I shall be opening up the books and filling my brain once again.

It'll be a long few years working full-time and doing my Masters part-time; however, I believe I excel under high amounts of stress (or at least that's what I'm telling myself). I guess the psychic at the Tea House was right: student life for me is not over yet!

All is well

Let the Games Begin.... Again!

2007-04-04T14:02:00.000-07:00

Almost a year has gone by since I began my journey as a lowley youth worker trying to find my place amidst the inner workings of the beast I refer to as "the outdoor industry".

If you remember my blog from a year ago that described my three-week bout in hell that landed me my certificates in kayak guiding and wilderness first aid, you will remember the choice words I used to describe the experience and the internal battle I was enduring while trying to figure out whether or not I could "hack it" in this new world I had encountered.

Well, I believe it's safe to say: I've made it! That may be a contested statement depending on who you talk to, but regardless I feel comfortable wearing my new 'quick-dry' pants* and Tivo sandles* (must-have's in the industry - gotta' keep up with the Campbell's ya know). I say this in my elation of passing my Advanced Wilderness First Aid training, a course that had me waking up in cold sweats and anxiety-ridden halucinations weeks before I left. The best decision I could have made was taking the course where I did: The Middle of Nowhere Quadra Island, B.C.

The last time I was on Quadra Island when I was 7 and all I remember was that my parents took us to a week-long bible family camp full of games, canoeing and there was a tent full of dress-up clothes that I spent way too much time in. Needless to say, my Advanced Wilderness First Aid Training DID NOT remind me of Family Camp! That being said, there were some moments during the course that conjured up the same feelings that only bible-camp can create: being holed-up in a wood lodge with no outside entertainment except our own imaginations and bad humour and of course, dress-up!

The course was 10 days long and gruelling if you count the amount of hours spent indoors while being surrounded by some of the most pristine wilderness I've ever seen! But lots of fun was to be had playing "Doctor" and "Patient" and rehearsing all of the worst-case-scenarios that could happen out in the wild (which can certainly put a damper on a weekend stroll in the woods, but as we're told: preparation is key!).

There were 28 participants in total and 2 instructors and I believe its safe to say there may never again be such a ecletic group of people in the such a small space for such a length of time. Wow! would be a word used to describe the energy, the stories, and the relationships that were formed during that week. We were certainly lucky to have Doc and Yukie teaching the ways of Wilderness Medicine. Doc, who describes himself as a recovering marine, was a medic in the U.S. Navy and has since seen the light and converted. The man has some incredible stories to share for pretty much every major wilderness disaster you can imagine, which definately added excitement to our days. I'm also pretty much certain that I would have failed if Doc was willing to entertain the endless verbal diahrrea that exploded from my mouth every 10 minutes....
And Yukie...... all I can say is that she's a Japanese fire-cracker that reminded me of a good drug: it's easy to get addicted!

I could go on and on about the people I met and the stories I heard about lives so inherently different from my own. People who live on secluded Islands and children who've been raised my the Ocean and the Land. I found it difficult to return to the city, as I always do, but it felt good knowing that it's possible to live a different way.

Anyways, the games of another season have begun. Next up: 2nd Level Guides Training and Exam. Be sure to stay tuned to see whether or not I master the art of the Eskimo Roll!

BOOYA

On Day 8....

2007-01-06T04:27:00.000-08:00

So for those of you who don't know, I have finally mustered up the courage (and the $60) to purchase a heinous, but rather effective, pharmaceutical drug known as Zyban and attempt the daunting task of qutting smoking! Yup, I've had ten wonderful long years with my little friend, but as the saying goes: all good things must end. Just Kidding (sort of). It's true that I will miss parts of smoking, nicotine being a major contributer to that needy feeling. There were many good times in my life that are heavily associated with smoking: playing cards with my girlfriends, good gossip convo's with co-workers, walking squares with the boys in jail and reaching a common ground with the hellion teens I've worked with. But I finally came to the realization that I do not need a white tube packed full of flesh eating chemicals to do those things. So, with the help of my addiction's master fiance, I embarked on the next chapter of my life....

Three weeks of Pure Hell (as I now like to refer to it). However, it should be made clear that this is merely a pit stop on my road to recovery and leading a healthy, whole life once again(like the one I had before I left the continent and was evilly influenced by German rocker teens to whom smoking was a religion.) But that's neither here nor there. I lit the first fag and I take full responsibility for my addiction (spoken like a true AA/NA junkie).

But let me tell you a little about Zyban: the wonder drug that has helped millions of people world wide regain control of their lives and quit smoking with confidence, joy and ease.........

It's the Devil! Smoking was not nerely as bad for me as these little chemical packed purple pills that alter reality, making you a starving crazed insomniac. That's why they work. They mess you up so much that you don't remember what smoking is. Your brain's like "wow dude, what the hell are you putting into my lungs", while your other brain's like "wow dude, I need more, I NEED MORE!!!!!!!

Granted the ammonia, pesticides, acids, tar and other nasty chemicals that smoking leaves in the pink capillaries of your lungs is horrible and has long-term effects, but this is just evil.
You know how some pharmaceutical drugs tell you not drive heavy machinery, or mix alcohol while taking the medicine? Well, Zyban should read: "Don't leave your home, attempt to have any meaningful conversations, DEFINATELY DO NOT GO TO WORK, and don't make any important decisions while taking Zyban". And that's all fine and dandy if you only have to take the damn things for a few days, but they recommend 12 weeks to 6 months. I have already made an ass out of myself on numerous occasions and have had to call in "sick" to work, but explain that really I felt like I was high and I didn't think that working with addicts would be the best place for me. Yea, you think?! In six months, I would have no job, no apartment, no friends, but hey at least I wouldn't be a smoker, right?!

Well, the drug is an anti-depressant. That should have been my first clue. Who knows what long-term damage this stuff will do to me, but for now I guess I have to live with the sleepless nights, eatless days, sizzled neurons and lack of emotion, cuz I haven't smoked in 8 days and no randomn beatings or acts of property destruction have occurred. Victoria is safe.

But I suppose it's worth it. I just keep reminding myself of the money I will be saving, the flesh in my lungs that will retain its colour, the food that will be savoured and the warmth that I will enjoy forevermore as I will no longer have to brave the cold in order to get my 'kick'.

It's only day 8......

Consuming me

2007-01-04T22:48:00.000-08:00

And once again the unsettling feelings that accompany complacency have returned and my stomach is in knots as the silvery glare of my electronics reminds me I am on the road to hell. The hell I refer to is not the biblical one of fire and heat, but one of cell phones, white pickets fences and the odd feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach everytime you enter Walmart. Greed I believe is the term.

I look around me and I see a lot of stuff, some of it useful; much of it enjoyable; none of it necessary. Yet so easily I can justify why I am possession of so many unecessary items and so easy it is for me to condemn and judge those who possess that much more.

See I like to think that I am different from those who ride in black Escalades down tree-lined streets wearing Armani suits and diamond rings. But I am not. I am just as guilty. My clothes are made by children in Thailand and India, my shoes are sewn by women in China, the food I eat is mass produced at the sake of animals’ decency so I can save a buck and the car I drive is slowly choking our air and flooding our earth. And yet still I believe that I am not guilty of continuing child labour, drug deals, weapon trades and animal cruelty. No, no. I am aware, I am conscious, I know.

The fact is it doesn't matter that I am aware of, or in the contemplative stage of the change model. I am a consumer in the wealthiest group of people on the face of this planet and I, like millions of others, love Old Navy! In fact, I think I am worse than many, because of the fact that I am aware, I am socially, politcally and environmentally conscious, yet I do nothing to change the way I live.

Weddings, birthdays, Christmas, new home, new baby. It's easy to get side-tracked. All of this equals more stuff and we live in a world where we are bombarded my messages telling us the stuff=life long happiness and success. Not for me. Every new possession I obtain feels like a weight around my neck and a ball and chain around my foot. These feelings come and go; sometimes I believe that I could live that life and be happy. It's like a new sweater. I see it, I love it, I buy it and wear it for a month straight. And then suddenly it doesn't hold the same value and I see something else to buy and love and wear. And so the cycle continues until the other half of me gets reignited and I think I hear a voice in my head telling me to sell it all and go. Go wherever love is needed, whevever God seeks me to be. But I can never distinguish between what God is telling me and what I am telling myself. So I chalk it up to my innate need to always be in a state of crisis and tensley wait until it passes.

My fear is that one day it won’t. It will be too late and I will feel that I wasted my passion, my heart and my gifts looking for a good deal at Value Village.

The Long Way Around

2006-08-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

I got engaged a few weeks ago....... I SAY WHAT???!!!! Crazy, I know. I thought my post-secondary education was a large debt, but all the bets laid years ago that I would die a crazy old spinster will lock me in bankruptcy for a long time to come! And that's totally ok with me.

I was introduced as a fiance tonight, I can only imagine the spins I'll get the first time I'm introduced as a wife. Life is funny. It hits you at crazy times that when you thought you had it all figured out you were sorely wrong. I just happened to end up better off than I ever thought I would, for whatever reason.

People talk about getting second chances or being able to change their stars. I call it grace. I don't know why I've been blessed with such a deep and true love in my life cuz God knows that I haven't lived a life deserving of such. But it's not about getting what you deserve.....

My sister told me that the song my the Dixie Chicks called "Taking the Long Way Around" reminds her of me. I laughed and then cried a little when I listened to it the first time. One of the lyrics goes:

"Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
But I've always found my way somehow
By taking the long way around"

This is more true than I'm probably willing to admit. I've definately done things my way in a sense, and I certainly never saw myself as the 'settling down' type, but when I think about marriage and all that it entails I don't see it as settling down. Quite the opposite to be honest, in fact I think it will be the craziest adventure I have ever embarked on, and I've done some pretty crazy things in my life.

I still feel young, really young. A baby really. And I still feel there are so many things that I haven't seen or heard or done and I still believe I'm only half of the person that I am capable of being, the only difference is that I have this really amazing person who wants to share all that with me. And I know that I couldn't get to where I want to go without him. That's cool shit!

I still can't believe it and sends me into a rage of laughter when I think of all that I have experienced in my short life, all the times I've vowed NEVER to marry, the fact that I'm now engaged and my damn wisdom teeth have just started to show!

Life is funny and wonderful and shocking all at the same time. Just never think you know it all cuz you'll wake up one day and realize that you had it all wrong and all the things that happened in between can hurt when trying to get back to where you started - and that's the long way around.

2006-06-27T23:21:00.000-07:00

It's too late to be awake but at the same time its too early to sleep; and I'm still at my computer sitting uneasy. Ancy. I don't know, maybe its the heat, maybe its just me, but the world seems to be sleeping and I'm wide awake contemplating the meaning of life. I wish I could turn my brain off. I wish I could tell my passion to subside for a moment, just enough time so I could sit in peace.

I meet people all the time who seem to be so peaceful and calm, like they know what it all means and are o.k. with it. I wonder if I'll ever be that person, sitting in the circle stoic, soothing, wrapped in an aura of bliss and white.

White. White lillies, white doves, white dresses, white wind, white tears - they paint my face sometimes.

I feel so disconnected from my family right now. While its a normal thing for me to feel, it always comes and goes, this time it seems to hurt a bit more. Perhaps because there are things that I'm missing out on; memories being made that I will have no part in reminiscing.

I sat in a diner today, much like the one that my dad used to take me to when I was young. Once a month, he'd take me on a 'dad and daughter' date. Red's Diner, that's what it was called and it had big red leather booths and the best french fries in town. He used to take me there at lunch hour and I remember feeling so special when he'd come to pick me up to take me 'out for lunch'. Very cool....

I was reminded of that today and it made me miss my dad. I miss my family. I wish I was home sometimes. Interesting how its not until you have the choice that you realize how truly important and incredible family is.

H'ychia Siem

Autumn

Love...

2006-06-27T23:08:00.000-07:00

I've read lots of blogs written by women sharing with the world about how amazing their men are and I was thinking that I've never really done that. But then I was thinking, I don't really want to either. Dustin is amazing, we are amazing together and I love him for everything that he was, is and will become in his life. That's enough, there really are no more words that my language allows to share what LOVE really is...

But there are some pics to prove it!!!

Autumn

New Beginnings

2006-06-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

Wow, its been awhile. I've had this constant gnawing in my head telling me there is something I need to do and it wasn't until today that I realized how long its been since I've written anything...I really long time and LOTS has happened (for those of you who are interested).

While I could go on and on about the last few months I'm going to keep this short and let you all know that this blog is going to change a bit and I'll you how and why, but first a little update.

By the time I realized I wasn't going to finish my thesis, I also realized that I needed a change of scenery. Funny how things work out for not more than a few days after making this realization I received an email regarding a job position in Victoria as an 'adventure therapist' with high risk youth. The Island has always been a solace for me and with Dustin out of jail and this amazing opportunity before me it was too hard to resist. I went for the interview and was hired, which was awesome; however, breaking the news to my, at that time, current employers was difficult. But I was smothered with compassion and joy for new beginnings and within a month I moved to Victoria.

Change of scenery is certainly what I got. Within two days of being in Victoria I started, what would turn out to be 20 straight days of training for my new job. And not just your regular 9-5, learn about the organization type of training, I was not that lucky. It was boot camp for midget redheads with bad tempers and grumpy morning syndrome. In 20 days I had to become a professional kayaker and wilderness first aid expert. My first day of this training was truly memorable.....

Imagine walking into a room full of people who know what they're doing and why they're there and you are as green as grass looking around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Question after question I wasn't getting anywhere except some bad looks and a water logged stomach from swallowing the sobs. After four hours of theory on weather systems, pressure systems, tides, currents and whatever else I didn't know anything about..... it was time to "get our gear and boats and get into the water to practice rolls, wet exits and rescues". I must have looked like the dumb kid in math class (once again) putting my hand up and saying "what gear"? Lucky enough my boss got some gear together for me and on I went to begin my paddling adventure. A couple days later we left Victoria for a five day kick-you-in-the-ass training on the West Coast with lots of wind, big waves and cold cold cold water.

Once again imagine waking up at 6:00 every morning and putting on a cold wetsuit soaked in sand, that doesn't fit you, then jumping into a kayak, which you don't know how to paddle, and while trying to keep up to all the other 'cool kids' in the group doing their rolls and surf with poise and grace, you look like a handicapped whale who lost its flippers and has a bad case of chronic seizures. Good times! I laugh about it now, but man was I balling behind big boulders every day pretending I was 'peeing', just so I wouldn't look like even more of a dork than originally thought.

But, as God would have it, I passed my practical and theory exams, which is pretty amazing considering my theory was ALL math.... yes, math, you need math to kayak... go figure Oh and weather, yes I am now a meterologist (almost). Anyways, I learned some amazing things and I made some pretty awesome friends along the way. I haven't been challenged like that in a long time and it forced me to confront some demons which is always good; however, the environment could have been a tad bit more supportive, you know? Water under the bridge, I finished and I'm proud of myself. But it wasn't over. The day after my kayak course ended I started my wilderness firstaid course....

Boy, am I the chick you want around when shit goes sideways in the bush let me tell ya'. Everything from a broken pelvis to flailing chests, trailing intestines and blisters I'm on it! 40 hours of torture that I won't get back, but the information could be useful when hell freezes over, or when the line-up to get into a B.C. emergency room becomes longer than the line-up to see the Pope (which is not that impossible).

Anyways, its all over and I passed all my courses and I am now a Kayak Guide/Program Facilitator/Youth Counsellor/Cook/Wilderness Medic/STELLAR DISH CLEANER!!!!

Last week I went on my first trip in the Gulf Islands and it made all the pain and doubt and beaten self-esteem worth it when I realized how truly blessed I am to have such an amazing opportunity this summer. I love the outdoors, I love water, I love camping, and I love kids. I love seeing them overcome challenge, build relationships with eachother and themselves, and push themselves to grow. This job does that. Last week we took 10 First Nations adults and we followed a traditional route through the Islands. We stayed on traditional land and had elders come to meet us each day to show us how to live as they're ancestors did. We learned how to smoke clams and salmon, we danced, sang and drummed everynight, we learned about traditional uses of plants and animals. My brain is so full of knowledge it blows me away.

There's so much I could say about the trip, but this is already long enough. But my goal is to write a blog for each trip I go on this summer and pass on knowledge that I learn to others. I don't do that enough and I believe its the only way that we can preserve what is powerful, true and sacred.

I added some pictures from the trip; hope you enjoy.

Autumn

No more ink in my printer...

2006-04-05T10:23:00.001-07:00

"Things happen for a reason" - we've all heard that classic cliche, usually brought up in times of struggle when friends and family or sometimes complete strangers attempt to console and comfort you when it seems the world has come to a hault. It certainly can help ease the soul to believe there may be something greater happening than we are able to recognize when shit hits the fan in our lives, but the questions remains: is it true? Do things happen for a reason? Is there some ultimate plan behind everything that happens in our lives or is it all up to chance, success, failure? I am not sure how to answer this question, I don't think there is a clear answer, which makes it all the more hard when trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my life...

This past year I was faced with the decision of continuing my academic by enrolling in a pre-masters program or entering into the work force. Stupidly I chose both thinking my abilities that got me through my undergrad would automatically follow into my post-grad - ability to pull all-nighters, caffeine actually having an effect on me, being able to function under stress with no sleep and still manage to drink more beer on any given night just to escape the chaos I created .... but something happened and those abilities were not there to fall back on when push came to shove and I failed. Actually, that doesn't cut it - I failed miserably.

The truth is I am not academic - the bow-ties, big leather couches and sips of bourbon over stale conversation does not appeal to an ideallystic hippy such as myself, but I worked my ass off for four years and was able secure a pretty decent GPA so that I had options, choices when it came to doing my Masters. I worked throughout my university career and while at times the stress almost became too much to bear, I ALWAYS got my papers finished and handed in on time, my presentations were always well researched, and somehow I was able to retain an incredible amount of information the night before my final exams!!! I guess I thought that if I could do that three years running - working with a full course load - why would this be any different.?

Apparently it was... or maybe I just lost my edge. Perhaps thats what scares me - that I may have lost my ability to pump it out when its most needed, to kick ass when the odds are low and the tension great. I used to pride myself on the things that I could accomplish in such a short amount of time and under great amounts of stress. But the accolades were not enough to soothe the strain on my soul or my mind and perhaps this Spring was my breaking point.

I didn't finish my thesis. I tried, God knows I tried... and I am angry. I am angry at myself for failing, I am angry at myself for giving up and I'm really angry at myself for becoming someone I have no respect for. Its like I lost trust in myself. How does that happen? How does someone lose trust in themselves? I'm afraid that I won't be able to rely on myself to succeed when the going gets tough - to carry on when it seems like there's no point, or no end. The worst of it is all the people I let down in the process. My parents, my friends, my fellow students; everyone who wanted to see me succeed just as much I wanted to.

I wanted that thesis so badly, I wanted to have the bound copy on my bookshelf to remind myself of what I had accomplished, I wanted my friends and family to come and hear me defend and present in front of my classmates and professors, and I wanted so badly to dedicate it to the man who encouraged me to do it in the first place, my Gordie. I have NEVER not finished something I started, I am not that person. I don't give up, I am not weak, I am not a failure. This feeling in the pit of my stomach is almost unbearable. A deadly mixture of anger, disappointment, saddnes and shame. What good is there to come of this? That is what I ask for now.

Perhaps it is knowing that I have a breaking point, that like any other human that I walk this earth with I can be broken and I can fail. Today was the day that I was to defend, but instead I worked a 10 hour day and came home to a bottle of wine and my cats.... wow. It's been a crazy year; between moving out of Van to utter loneliness on a freakin farm to taking on a job that literally could make even my mother go loopy - something had to give. Am I ok with that? No. But I've also realized that I am a crazy perfectionist with a stress complex that has had my blood pressure at an unhealthy level for probably the majority of my life. That is what I am working on now..... fun fun fun.

Whatever, I have decided to leave my job and leave this Valley. Change, once again, becomes my solace. Whats interesting is that today I realized that in reality it did not all go to waste. When I told my bosses I was leaving they were upset, but not because of why I thought they would be upset. They said they worried about whether they could find someone who could do as of a job as I did...

I didn't write my thesis, but I did do a hell of a job working my ass off at everything else.

BOOYA

My feet are my freedom...

2006-03-23T19:16:00.000-08:00

Freedom

2006-03-23T19:07:00.000-08:00

I am in a box and it has no windows and no doors, no mode of escape and really poor ventilation. Like the ones you see on magic shows with David Copperfield, only he's an escape artist and just my luck, magic school is not taking any applications. So what do I do? I kick and scream and hope that somebody hears me; that somebody will come and rescue me from this prison. To no avail my screams go un-heard, so I relent and become lost in dreams the vast expanse of my mind provides. For a short time that becomes my freedom until reality returns with its brute force slapping me back to consciousness. I really hate that. If I could live in my dreams I would, it is only there that I feel truly satisfied...

But why? This is the question - a thought that I have been pondering for probably the majority of my life. Why is it that I am so unsatisfied? The game of life keeps giving me new hands to deal and, truthfully, in a game of poker I wouldn't be doin' so badly - so why the constant need for change, for challenge, for adventure? It never stops, my mind a whirling collage of dreams orchestrated by my inner-most self. She wants out. No more cages, no more bars, just freedom, pure and simple.

I look at my life and it seems I’m waiting for it to start. I constantly trick myself into believing that life is in slow-mo, that I’m doing what I should be doing and when I’m done I can finally do what I want to do. The pressures of this world are so great at times I feel like giving up. The expectations too high to meet; the challenges too great to overcome. So I move, or I take a new job; I make plans that I know will never carry through – just to feel like things are happening, that I’m not getting stuck in the monotonous rat race that inevitably seems to consume everyone.

Once a month I cross the small bit of ocean that separates the mainland from the Islands. I go there for many reasons, but perhaps the most important is the sense of harmony and purpose I feel on those rocky shores. For the hour and a half it takes to navigate through passes, channels and the open sea, I am lost in contemplation. I think and think and think some more. It seems as though it is the only time that my mind is clear and I feel connected to the world around me. That ocean knows my secrets, it knows my heart. I stand against the railing and cry out to the rolling waves of the deep blue begging for answers. The sea swells with my angst and anxiety, the sun spreads its warmth on days when I feel at peace. I feel free in those moments, but perhaps that is only because my shackles are loosened. They are never fully released.

Freedom is a powerful concept. One that is drenched in a bloody history of philosophical musings and conquest. It is a concept that contains a different meaning for everyone from individual independence and free-will to national sovereignty and self-determination. Freedom. You hear it whispered softly behind the prison bars at night, you see it on the faces of abused children and in the eyes of soldiers, you smell it in the alley ways amongst the hookers and addicts and you read it on the blog of a girl who can’t get her shit together enough to realize that her freedom is right in front of her, she’s just too scared to admit it.

What to do about God?

2006-03-10T12:17:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I read a book, some of you may know it - its called "Blue Like Jazz", and its written by a man who has been searching for a true relationship with God for the majority of his life. It's actually a miracle that I ever even opened the book, it was a gift from my mom who over the years has given me numerous 'christian' books, many of which I have not read. For some reason though I began to read this book, probably because of its description as "non-religious thoughts on christian spirituality". It took me three days to finish it - one of those "couldn't put it down" books, you know. It wasn't that the book was particularly inspirational or thrilling, rather it gripped me because it felt like I was reading my own journal. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as the realization came that there was someone else out there who felt the same way I did....

I'll explain.

I grew up in a very strong Christian family, full of daily devotionals, church picnics and family prayer time. Looking back I see the blessing in this; however, for majority of my life I saw it more as a curse. I felt that Christianity was forced upon me, just as I was forced to go to youth group on Friday nights and church on Sunday mornings. I never felt close to God, nor did I ever really understand what He was or how He could be a part of my life. There were times where I felt the presence of God - going to Camp Tulahead every summer was probably the only 'churchy' thing I enjoyed and it was only there that at times I could see some sense in the whole Christianity thing. However, I would return to "the bubble" (my hometown) and that fire never failed to go out when school started again and things began to take importance over my relationship with God, namely, ME!

I remember sitting in church time and time again listening to the pastor preach about following God's calling, and living by what God tells us in the Bible. Well, for me I subconsiously viewed this as basically doing whatever my parents wanted me to do. Because Christanity and God was so closely connected to my parents, as well as the rift in our relationship during my teenage years, I was unable to separate the two; therefore, God got lumped into the big bucket of authoritarian adults whose sole purpose in life was to judge me, scold me and ruin my life. Subsquently, the moment I left home, I also left God. To be honest it was a freedom I had never experienced before, partly because I think I also left behind my conscience, but I felt that I finally I could be who I wanted to be. I could make my own decisions, I could 'hang-out' with whoever I wanted to hang-out with, I could behave and dress and talk however I wanted to. It was my long-lost independence returned and it felt wonderful!

I think a part of it too though, was that I never felt I belonged in Church. It's hard to explain and when I was younger I certainly didn't understand it, but it just didn't seem to fit with me. I don't know, there was something about going to a building every Sunday morning, having to get dressed up just to listen to someone lecture on how to be good, just bothered me. Probably because it made me feel bad. It created this belief in me that you were either good or bad and other people around you were either good or bad and if you didn't go to church and if you liked to hang-out in friends' basements and if you liked the taste of beer and if you used a swear word when you were angry, you were bad. I didn't like that cuz I didn't think I was bad, I just thought I was different. When I back-packed across Europe I was introduced to the world outside of "the bubble", and I instantly felt like I was lied to. The world wasn't full of bad people and evil religions, they were just different, like me, and that made me feel really good, like it was o.k. that I was different because the rest of world was different too.

Over the next few years when I went to university I began to think that it was Christianity that was bad. When I began learning about how many indigenous peoples around the world have been abused, their cultures torn apart, their languages beaten out of them all in the name of God, the Christian God, I became angry. When I saw Campus Crusade for Christ showing pictures of aborted fetuses and calling it genocide and murder and then handing out pamphlets about how Jesus loves you - I got very angry. When I heard students from Trinity Western University say to news reporters they are opposed to same-sex marriage because they think its 'disgusting' - I got even more mad! When I read that the states that have continued the practice of capital punishment are predominantly right-wing conservative Christians - I became bitter. When George W. Bush asked his fellow Christians to pray for the U.S. the night the 'shock and awe' campaign began in Iraq and as bombs began to fall on the innocent civilians of Baghdad- I cried.

A year ago I went to visit a family that had sort of adopted me on a reserve island called Kuper Island, off the coast of Vancouver Island. This experience rocked me truly to the core of who I was and what I thought about the world. On this island I was surrounded by an entire community wrought with violence, addiction, sexual abuse and incest - their language had been lost generations before, their culture barely hanging on to the threads of their Grandmothers memories, their homes dirty and decrepit, and their children struggling with the lasting effects of the trauma their elders had experienced. But what tore me up the most was the church that still stood on the highest hill of this island, this church that represented the genocide, the abuse, the separation of families and the loss of culture remained intact, while everything else around it reaked of death and destruction. I remember my sisters holding me as I sobbed in their arms, barely able to get the words of "I'm sorry" out. I felt personally responsible for what happened to that community- what happened to my sisters and their sisters and their sisters - how do you apologize for something like that? How do you apologize for the actions of so many who raped and beat and sodomized so many young children, all in the name of God, when all they should have done is love.

Regardless of whether or not I have lived as a righteous and holy christian, I do know that something has been lost in the Christian faith; and that is love!

I remember a few years ago I became good friends with a woman who practices Wicca, a practice that I was always told was the work of the devil. Regardless of how you feel about Wicca there was an incredible sense of irony when she became the first person to point out aspects of my life that resembled that of Jesus' life. She told me that Jesus was an outreach worker, a prison volunteer, a social activist and really, the first true dirty-hippy! A revelation this was in my life as I and my life always came under-fire when in conversation with my family members. Always the question: "how do you reconcile the way you live with God, Carley?"

I have never fit into a box, a square, or even a circle for that matter, and I suppose I saw the Christian religion as a steel cage. It didn't allow for individuality or difference of opinion . There was always a certain way to pray, a certain way to worship, a certain way to be in the presence of God, and none of these led me to feel like God even existed. A year or so ago I sat in a sweat lodge in the middle of the woods, with my toes deep in the earth, my skin wet with sweat from the heat and my heart surrounded by the love and acceptance of my brothers and sisters who sat with me - it was here that I felt a closeness to God I had never experienced before.

Last summer I went through some really tough stuff, none of which needs to be shared here (I do have a limit on self-disclosure), but it kinda' shook up my life and forced me to re-evaluate so to speak. I didn't like what I saw when I looked in the mirror- so I shaved my head. I didn't like the things I was doing in my life - so I walked away. I knew something was missing, but I didn't know what - so I prayed. Then my mom gave me the book "Blue Like Jazz" and the things that were shared in that book felt like the author was able to take everything I felt about God and christianity and religion and write it down. For the first time, I felt like I could have a relationship with God and still be me and that would be o.k.

I listened to Donald Miller speak this morning, author of "Blue Like Jazz", and he said that we should see God as a being to have a relationship with, much like we have with our earthly fathers, rather than a slot machine or a computer that has certain rules and practices to follow in order to get what you want. This made me really happy, because, like many of you know, i really suck at following rules and being respectful of authority but I do know how to be in a relationship with others. I'd be lying if I said that now I have a strong faith in God, or I'm on fire for the Lord or however people describe it, because I really don't, but I think I'm working on it. My independence really gets in the way at the best of times and my issues with the Christian religion still gnaw away in my head.

And I fully realize that to some of you I am a hypocrite because I judge the Christian religion the same way christians judge others, but thats exactly it. I detest the christian religion- it has a bloody, hateful and venegeful history; the christian faith, or spirituality, is very different. And thats precisely what this man wrote in his book "Blue Like Jazz". He spoke about how we have forgotten the message that Jesus wanted us to know, understand and practice - and that is the message of love. I may not think that homosexuality is wrong; I may love the taste of beer, swear every once in awhile, and I may not like evangilism but I do believe I know how to love.

I've been hearing a lot of about lent the past few days, and I'd be lying if I said I understood what it meant, but I do know that you're supposed to give up something that you really like and that sacrifice will bring you closer to God. Well at this point I don't think there's anything I'm willing to give up for forty-days (except maybe my thesis), but I do know there's something I could DO that would bring me closer to God and that's talk to him, sit down and have a chat, see what He has to say. I may just learn a thing or two, we shall see.

To all of those in my life who have never stopped praying for me I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Autumn

What's So Amazing About Grace?

2006-03-02T20:16:00.000-08:00

I find there is a moment in every day that lends itself to gratitude, beauty, peace - whatever it is that each of us search for. Sometimes the moments can seem few and far between but they are always there if we stand quiet enough to connect with them. Lately I have been busy... very very busy. The rat race never seems to end or even subside but yet I feel blessed to realize that I experience those special moments in my day that, forgive the cliche, 'make the world seem right'.

For example, last week I started an 'anger management' program for 12 boys between the ages of 14 and 17 in Surrey - a big task to undertake for any individual let alone a 5" nothin, 23 yr old chick who has her own 'anger management' issues. However, the Creator works in mysterious ways and after much frustation with the bureacracy of Surrey School District, late nights of trying to meet with each youth on a one-to-one basis, and seriously questioning my ability to take on such a task- I had my first session and was once again reminded of how truly beautiful the human spirit can be if cultivated in love, respect and compassion.

The beginning of the night started off with a scenario that somewhat resembled a group of silverback gorillas pounding their chests- each desperately trying to out do eachother with with 'street stories' and tales of hot-wired escalades, drug-induced gang wars, drive-by's and even some tales of annoying mothers. At first I was worried that I had brought a group of boys together merely to swap violence stories and give tips to each other on how to out-run the cops; however, the machoism finally subsided and as we began to lead the group in a series of exercises, some fun and silly, others more serious - a miraculous thing began to happen: they started talking! Each kid started sharing his life experiences with violence and anger, speaking only in terms of how badly they wished things could go differently. This continued to the extent that when four large pizzas were brought into the room, they refused to leave the circle and continued to share for another 1/2 hr. This was amazing not only because these were pissed off teenage boys, but because the group was made up of individuals who, in any other circumstance, would never associate with each other, let alone swap life stories over pizza.

We explored our roots of anger and talked about our reactions to things that hurt us, we talked about the struggles that we have with our families and friends and we talked about things we want to do differently when anger floods our minds. I suppose I underestimated the ability for such a scenario to take place, particularly given the life history's and nature of many of the youth involved - but I never should have. A pissed off 16 year old boy is no different in his need to be loved, cared for, affirmed and encouraged - although at times he may wish to be immune to those needs. Monday night showed me that.

I sat in my car that night listening to 'Jars of Clay' and silently thanked God for the 12 blessings he had bestowed in my life that evening. I don't pretend to think that as an individual I can change these kids' lives; however, there is this really cool thing called grace that has the power over anything else in this world to mend hearts and heal wounds when shared with others. Perhaps that is why it is so amazing!

Full of Gratitude

Autumn

2006-02-03T13:41:00.000-08:00

Dusty and I

"I was in prison and you visited me"

2006-01-11T22:06:00.000-08:00

The very few of you who read this (lazy and quite sad) attempt at a blog probably know that for the last three years a huge part of my life has been going to prisons. Not for the traditional reasons of breaking the law, although I admit that wouldn't be far off the mark. No, I started going to prison because in some strange way I felt called to be there. This 'calling' was certainly not heard for majority of my life. In fact, for a while there I felt a calling to bring back capital punishment. My opinions regarding criminals were guided by hatred and vengeance, rather than compassion and forgiveness. But this shift did not happen over night.

It was in my restorative justice class that my values and beliefs about criminals and the system were challenged from the bottom-up. At first I tried to ignore the gnawing in my chest and the little voice in my head, and i was relatively succesful at this until a convicted murderer in his 19th year of incarceration came into my class to speak with us. At first I was mad and I asked lots of harsh questions, hoping his true character would show through and I would instantly feel fine again. This wasn't the case, in fact this man had me so twisted up inside after hearing his story that I felt compelled to learn more. We had lunch together that afternoon and went over the Victoria together for a RJ symposium a few weeks later. He coined me his 'problem child' and for two years he became a solace in my life and me in his. The Creator has amazing ways of strategically placing certain people in our lives at certain times and this was nothing short of a miracle relationship. I loved G. as a father and he loved me as his child. He was taken away from his own children and they no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, a loss that was so much greater for him than the loss of his own freedom. He was taken away from me nad many others who loved him this past July and the grief was at times too great. But I am thankful and I am blessed to have known him for he showed me a better way of being.....

Anyhow, on with my story. I was introduced to the "Alternatives to Violence Project" (AVP) three years ago in my Restorative Justice class and then again at the Restorative Justice Symposium at William Head Instiutition. I decided that I would "blindly go where no 21 year old 4'11 redhead had ever gone before" and attend an AVP Basic Workshop inside William Head Institution. AVP changed my life and to many of my friends and family's shock I quickly became part of a small community of anarchistic hippies known as "AVP Lifers"!!! AVP became an addiction, it became the most important thing in my life and it wasn't uncommon for me to be in prison every single weekend for weeks at a time (on my own free will, of course). I quickly became a facilitator of these workshops that focus on community, empowerment, affirmation, communication and non-violence and realized that never again would I know how to 'really' communicate (in other words, heartspeak) with people without sitting in cirlce.

While I speak of how much I love prison, it is the people inside and the relationships that are built that are to love. Prison is a horrible place - regardless of how the ignorant media protray it. Imagine going to a place that exists only because there is pain and hurt and violence in the world. You hear stories of such pain and torment that at times you question the existance of God. When hundreds of very hurt and angry people are placed into a crowded pen together, its hard to imagine anything but more anger and hurt to be created. However, I have experienced more love, compassion and humanity behind prison walls than I have anywhere else on this planet. Perhaps it is because there is such a hunger to recevie it behind the razor wire, or perhaps it is because I feel such a need to give it. Regardless, in the last three years of 'going inside' I have learned more about myself than the past 10 years combined. I have loved more, I have gave more, I have cried and laughed more, and I have experienced the true essence of humanity. Very few in this world are blessed with that opportunity, and I am grateful. Yet at times it has been a curse for when you are shown a different way of 'being' everything else in life becomes mundane, fake and scripted.

It is truly a humbling experience going to prison. You are instantly have a renewed appreciation for the freedom you possess when you are faced with someone who has none. You are reminded of all the things you take for granted in life and you learn to appreciate the small things even more. And more than anything you are forced to realize that no one behind the fence is any different than you are. I could be there, too, and so could you. Those who sleep behind the razor wire are a segment of our society that is easily forgotten when out of sight, yet everyone seems to have an opinion when they are thrown back into the lime light. Cut off from their loved ones, their only connection to the outside world is what is on T.V. and the few community folk who have chosen to pass through into their world.

This is a constant struggle for me, particularly now that I no longer have the ability to be a part of AVP. However, that will be explained later. Going to prison can be particularly difficult for a person like me as I was born to oppose authority and fight injustice. Prison is a breeding ground for both and whats worse is there is ABSOLUTELY nothing I can do about it. That's the nature of the authoritarian system of aboslute power and control - it increases its own power as an entity by systematically taking away the power of individuals. You see people dehumanized and at times I myself have felt treated without dignity nor respect. But you suck it up and try to keep your mouth shut. For there is no room for questions or comments about how you feel you're being treated or anyone else for that matter. You enter timid and respectful, careful not to be too friendly or too withdrawan (both could be seen as 'suspicious behaviour') and you silently fight to keep inline with your values without getting thrown out of prison. There have been many who have not lasted this fight - we have missed them and we have been frustrated with not being able to stand up against the injustice that the prison system flourishes on. I have been harassed and bullied, lied to and disrespected many times while in prison...... and not by the inmates. But, again that is the nature of prison and as much as I wish to believe it could change, I have realized that will not until people other than us bleeding hearts, wish to see it change.

It was in July of last summer that I realized that AVP could no longer be a part of my life, not because I did not want to do it anymore, but because I am a horrible liar......I'll explain. I fell in love. I did what I thought would NEVER happen and I actually went against everything my head was telling me. I never went to prison to find a relationship (regardless of what all the guards thought), yet it happened and I was forced to make the most difficult decision of my life to date for it meant that if I was to admit this feeling and start a relationship with his person I would have to walk away from AVP. I was forced to decided between the most important person in my life and the most important activity in my life. Sure, we could have hid it and lied and we discussed doing that so I could continue with AVP. But when it came down to it I wanted to be open and honest and transparent, if I didn't I would be a hypocrite and a liar. So, we held a cirlce and told our fellow AVP'ers and I walked away.

There are certainly still times that I cry over the grief of losing the ability to be a part of AVP and I went through a long period of feeling very disconnected from my community and friends who I went to prison with, at times I still do. But I also feel an incredible sense of peace about my decision and my relationship with this man. He is the most beautiful human being I have ever known and he has taught me so much about life and love, forgiveness and compassion. He has struggled in life, as well have, yet he has come up from the bottom with the purest heart and a resolve for peace and non-violence. I have been blown away by the support I have received from people. My parents have overwhelmed me with their understanding and unconditional support in this relationship. For that I am so thankful. No doubt we will encounter opposition to our relationship and I may lose respect from individuals, but that is just ignorance and judgement and those people are the ones who have to live with that, not me.

Dustin goes up for parole next week. We are both wrought with anxiety as our life lies in the hands of three strangers. It is difficult not to dream and make plans, I so long for him to finally BE a part of my life, but there is danger in being too hopeful as there is always danger in the unknown. But that is life, and this is my story. I feel blessed being able to share a part of it.

Autumn

Transformation

2005-12-05T11:24:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I sat amongst my 'soul sisters', as I like to call them, in a circle on transformation. These soul sisters are women who have come into my life through a mutual activity: going to prison. We range in age (20's to 60's); we range in beliefs (some are christians, some are wiccan, some are buddhists and some are just themselves); we range in life experiences (those cannot be bracketed); and we are all on a different path in our life journey's.

We decided about a year ago to start this women's circle where we meet, eat and share as we found that there were many things we were not able to address in prison (deep female stuff, you know). So, we began meeting every few months and these cirlces have become such an incredible blessing and joy in my life, much because of those who sit with me but also because of the healing that comes from heartspeak with my fellow sisters. Each circle has a different keeper and a different topic. We start off with a smudge and a prayer and then go around the circle sharing, laughing, crying whatever our heart speaks to, until our stomachs hurt from laughing, our tear ducts are dried out and we feel as though we've shared to the extent we were willing.

This last circle, I was the keeper and I chose the topic of transformation because it is endless, exciting, and everyone can speak to it in some form. I look at myself and in my ways I see a butterfly, certainly not because I'm particularly graceful or nice to look at, but because the butterfly is a pure representation of transformation, and that is something I do not lack in my life. I have transformed in many ways throughout my life, but not so much as I have in the last three years. Like the lines on my hands, my soul remains constant, that I cannot change; however, those lines have deepened and curved and stretched, much like my values, my beliefs and my dreams.

It's a beautiful thing to know that you are not stagnant. That you are capable of movement and growth. Perhaps a stagnant mind is as dangerous an element as stagnant water, but some find comfort in their stability and sometimes purifying water can be too much work. I on the other hand loathe monotony and I have never bought Britta.

The power of transformation is always at hand, but at times it can be difficult to grab hold of it and allow it to move through you. In times of strife and conflict transformation seems to come more easily, perhaps because you're forced to change in order to survive. For me the true beauty of this power is held in my ability to know and truly believe that people can change, hearts can be healed, beliefs can be molded. We are merely puddy in the hands of God. That is where my peace is found.

Autumn

Growing Pains

2005-11-24T13:36:00.000-08:00

I often sit alone on my porch, coffee in one hand, smoke in the other, and picture life as if I am painting a picture that I could jump into and escape the monotony of what my life consists of now. Not to say that I am unhappy or believe that my life is devoid of meaning; quite the contrary, however, I am unsatisfied in many ways. I have a hunger that growls deep within me and a thirst that seems can only be quenched by glacier waters from the highest peak in the most isolated mountains this world possesses. I am on a quest to reach that peak; metaphorically and otherwise. My fear merely comes from my belief that I will never get there; that I will never have that thirst quenched and I will die from the growling hunger.

I have began to realize that I seek chaos; in many ways it makes me feel alive. It gives me something to fight against. Does that make me strange? Does it make me less of a person that I find my humanity when surrounded by struggle, pain and tragedy. It is not because I think I can save this world, or myself for that matter, it is only because I see true beauty in the face of loss. I am surrounded by people who don’t understand what loss is, in all its various forms. To lose yourself is the tragedy of life, but I see it as an opportunity for rebirth. I want to lose myself over and over again, until the collection of me combines into something I can only understand in connection to my experiences: what I have learned, what I have gained, what I have lost and what I have felt.

I want to go to the places in this world where the struggle to survive is real; where freedom goes beyond materialism, individual gain and power; where the fight against social control is second to a clean glass of water that is a gift from the Gods and where joy comes from within rather than from things external. I don’t want complacency, I don’t want schedules, I don’t want to be organized or ‘reliable’ (in our sense of the word).I want my goals to be a reflection of my passion, that bring life to my world, rather than conform to the expectations and external demands of the capitalist state that sucks me dry….

I believe in the Creator, I believe in his strength, in his undying compassion, and in his vision for my life. He walks with me daily, although, most of the time I am too wrapped up in the distractions I have placed in my life to fully comprehend the power I am so close to. I have been on the brink of self-disclosure for majority of my life….. sitting the picket fence I have painted with colours of confusion, despair, strength and joy…. Rocking back and forth, desperately wanting to be one side of the fence, but unable to muster the courage to let go.

And love. Yes, the ultimate peak, the unattainable joy. He speaks of love like I dream of it. His words are like velvet ribbons caressing over my body and filling me with warmth I haven’t felt in years. I want what we wants, I want to receive what he wants to give and I want to give what he longs for. But what does that mean? I want to bring him his coffee while he write fairy-tales of love, legends of war and anecdotes of philosophy. I want to be his inspiration, the person who gives him strength in his weakest moments, and celebrates with him in his times of triumph.

I have experienced true and unequivocal love, I was young, yes, but it was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced in my life. To look at a person and have no breath, to feel like your chest will explode if you love them anymore. I was blessed to experience that, and I am even more blessed to still have that person in my life, but things changed and there was too much time in between.

I wonder, if I'm on this high right now, a drug of anticipated love, possible forevers, dreams come true; but highs never last, depending on the drug, 30 seconds to a few days tops. The infatuation can be unbearable… but only for a time and then it dissipates. Will this happen, I wonder. I don’t want the dream, I want the reality. I want to give away my worldly possessions and live out of my old and torn backpack, travel the world and seek beauty and humanity in the furthest corners …

My mind is a tornado of thoughts and ‘what ifs’; but my heart is at peace, like the calm after a storm. He's given that to me. What do I do with that?

Autumn

A Protest For Me

2005-11-12T10:55:00.000-08:00

It is a difficult task these days to ignore the rehtoric of social justice. It has become very 'pop culture' to protest the myriad of global injustices that plague our world. It is a movement that has become trendy and fashionable in the 21st century; but then again, so has hypocrisy. We watch our celebrities drive hybrid vehicles while sporting 'Gucci'; our leaders profess environmental protection, yet smooze with those who rape our earth; and, I, unfortunately, am no different. I used to attend protest after protest, fighting against anything from homelessness, to anti-war, to prisoner rights. For a time I felt like I was igniting change and was part of something greater than myself. Then I met a man, a prisoner in a federal institution, who knew nothing of the 'trendy' social justice movement, but everything about what it means to be oppressed, and he taught me what it truly means to be an advocate for social change. He told me it is not enough to make a poster and then parade it around the art gallery on a Saturday afternoon, yelling obscenities and smoking dope as if it's the magic potion that will bring equality, love and world peace. "No wonder our world is still at war; why there are still children going hungry; and people still being executed and imprisoned", he would say, "no one has changed." Through the many conversations with him, that I hold dear to my heart, this man taught me it had to become a way of life; a space I hold in this world, and a way of treating the earth and others around me on a daily basis. The hardest thing about being socially conscious is living it.

I don't go to protests anymore.....

Thank you G. I miss you

Autumn

My Sordid Nature I Cannot Deny

2005-11-10T17:12:00.000-08:00

I have realized that they are two kinds of social fighters in this world: those who fight against something and those who fight for something. In this realization I have come to the sad conclusion that I am a fighter who needs to fight against something in order to fight for something. In this state of being there is an ingrained propensity for violence. To fight against something is to wage a war and war avows there is a winner and a loser, someone who lives and someone who dies; there is no compromise in war, no dialogue, no peaceful resolution: there is only death, destruction and oppression. I do not wish to be associated with this ethos any longer. I publicly recant my war against the system, against the evil empire of the capitalist state; of the razor wire that has caged my fellow man in his shame for far too long; of our schools that seek to judge and punish rather than empower; of our church's that have turned to the propoganda of the Bush Administration to increase their numbers; and the complacency of my neighbours who know everything they want for Christmas this year, yet know nothing of the worn souls of their loved ones.

While these things will always set a fire in my heart and can easily turn my body into a boiling pot of anger, I do not see the beauty in that sordid nature. Rather, I stand and uphold my fight for an alternative mode of being, a different presence to hold in this world and the determination to work towards social justice with the seven virtues always close at hand.

awwww f*#@ it! Who am I trying to kid? I was born into this world to fight, why deny myself the one thing in life I'm good at?

Coffee at Starbucks anyone?

Am I Interesting?

2005-11-04T12:01:00.000-08:00

To be perfectly honest I'm not sure how I feel about this blogging ritual that has become quite the trend in the online social world ; however, I will admit to my neurotic curiosity as to whether my life is as interesting, or perhaps more so, than the average 'joe' who shares my space. While 'interesting' is a highly relative term, I do believe there are some aspects of my life that may spark the interest of a small few who somehow find the time to read the daily musings of a 23 year old redhead with a passion for anything non-complacent and a hopeless obsession with 'shell-shock'.

Life's a journey.... I drive a beat-up Volkswagen

Autumn