musings of an aquarian age counterculturist

Seeking the ‘Good’ in Good-Bye: Part 1

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.
~William Shakespeare

1994 was a turbulent and confusing time in my life.

I was a young married woman, in the throes of discontent, trying to understand and figure out my place in the world.  In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that not much has changed from that time to this, but I digress.

During that time, I had recently moved from Edmonton to a small Alberta town with my then husband.  Out of my element and out of sorts, I found myself bored and unfulfilled professionally and I started looking for an escape route.  Ultimately, I decided returning to school was the better way.

Social justice was important to me and somehow that led me to the conclusion that becoming a paralegal would align my beliefs with my career.  Yeah …. I know.  In my defence, youthful idealism was running the show.  I had not yet figured out that the concepts of law and justice were not exactly one and the same.

My classes were to commence in the fall of that year.  I called my mother to say I would have some time later in the summer to come home to Manitoba for a visit before classes started.  She thought it was a good idea.  After we finished chatting, my mom passed the phone to my father.  I repeated my thoughts to him about coming for a visit in August.  He replied, “Well your mother and I are going to Ontario to visit your grandparents the last two weeks of July, so why don’t you come with us?”  I was a little taken aback by the question.  Firstly, because I hadn’t expected the invitation.  Mostly, because my father had always been a man of few words and for him, this was A LOT of words.

Immediately, I felt the urge to say, “Yes!  I’ll come with you.”  For a moment I imagined how much fun it would be to do a road trip to Ontario with my parents, something I hadn’t done since I was a kid.

And then reality intervened.  I had just started a job that was financing school and I had been told I wouldn’t be allowed any vacation days until August.

With that in mind I said, “Thanks for asking Dad, but I have to work so I can’t get away in July.  So how about if I come to Manitoba after you get back from Ontario?   I’ll come to visit the first week of August”.

“Sounds good.  See ya then, ” he said, before hanging up.

Little did I know, that was the last time I would ever hear his voice.


Writing 101:  Day 4
Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t anymore.




New York City: My View.

Today, choose a place to which you’d like to be transported if you could …
Writing 101:  Day 2

Sometimes seemingly easy subjects at face value are in fact intricately complex.  And so it is with topics such as this.

If I possessed magical-instantaneous-transporter-superpowers, there are many places in the world I would want to go and explore for the very first time.  So many in fact, I wouldn’t know exactly where I would choose to land first.  Peru?  Sedona?  England?  Spain?  Italy?  Scotland?  Boston?  India?  Bali?  Iceland?  Australia?  Sweden?  And on.  And on.  And on.

So I had to go back to the original question, refocus and tap into what felt true for me.  Where in this very moment do I wish to be?  The answer, of course, is both stunningly obvious and veiled in mystery.  Why the contradiction?  Because despite the travel bug that thrives within me, my inner GPS always points me in the same direction.

Allow me to show you my True North.

Arriving at the destination that inexplicably and continuously calls my name, I begin my usual circumference walk with anticipation and excitement:  visiting old haunts and discovering new ones along the way.

A beautiful crossing.
Raindrops in Blue.

photo credit: eleventhbeatnik

photo credit: eleventhbeatnik

Emerging from W4 station, I soak in the familiarity and the newness
that unfailingly assaults my senses.

photo credit: google images

photo credit: google images

As I walk here and there, past memories arise and fade.
Wonderful new observations and discoveries are born.

photo credit: google images

photo credit: google images

Very Nice, actually.
Much compassionate deliciousness occurs here.
Curry Cauliflower Wrap anyone?  Lemon Blueberry muffin my dears?
Hell, yes!

scene of crime

photo credit: eleventhbeatnik

Let’s just call this “Scene of the Crime”.
As a pedestrian, I was hit by a taxi here as I stepped into crosswalk
and it changed the course of my life.
Physical pain?  Yes.  Recovery?  Long.  Emotional repercussions?  Indescribable.
The take-away?  I am grateful to be alive to tell the story.
I hurt a lot.  I loved a lot.  I learned a lot.

photo credit: google images

photo credit: google images

Washington Square Park.
Poetry, Music, Art

As my feet connect with the earth in this sacred place, I remember who I am.
It was in this park that I truly recognized myself for the first time.

i am the eleventhbeatnik

For me, New York City is more than a desired travel destination.  It is the place I feel most alive.  It is home of my heart.

photo credit: google images

photo credit: google images



Writing 101: Day 2