Howe Sound Inn

Life's funny.

I am sitting here at the Howe Sound in, at 10:20 on a Saturday night, with a Heineken, my laptop, and my BC Geography textbook.

I must have rented a room, you think? Nope. Bought the beer at the pub, and am now sitting in the almost-empty dining room, pretending to study. Actually, the beer was bought for me. By a follow Canadian, named Mike, high on being home after travelling/working in Europe for the past few months or years(?) - (it was loud, i couldn't really hear what he said).

The last diners are just walking out, and another laptop-attached being is sitting at a nearby table, looking out the window far more than he is working.

Why, you may ask, am I in Squamish on this rainy Saturday night? Because in flight of all rational thought, and facing monumental amounts of studying still to do, i opted at 5pm this evening to hop in the shower, do my hair and makeup, throw on some clothes that weren't pyjamas, and come on up for the last night of the Amnesty International Film Fest at the Eagle Eye Theatre.

And so here I am, listening to some groovy-loungey music, procrastinating, yet again, while the sounds of a local band playing in the next door pub crashes in fits and spurts into the dining room as people walk in and out of the pub, while a mournful steer looks at me from the black and white photo in the "agriculture" chapter of my textbook.

And with that, I return to the joys of reading...

PS. It turns out the that the other laptop-attached being is the owner of Valhalla Pure, trying to sort out his accounting, which has been somewhat lost in the translation from XP to Vista.

The Invitation

One can find wisdom in the most unexpected places. For a teambuilding event at work, several years ago, we organized a drumming circle. Professional drummers came to our site, with hand drums for everyone, and taught us how to drum as a group. And at some point in that few hours, they read us a poem, written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

Now, I pictured Oriah Mountain Dreamer as a wise old Indian elder. She isn't. She's a pretty blonde, a professional writer, who lives in the woods with her husband, several hours north of Toronto.

On Oriah's website, she describes her writing like this:

"a voice that has always been there within me: the voice that
passionately seeks life's purpose; the voice of the tired heart
that longs for real intimacy and deep rest; the voice that asks
me to be fully present with it all - the pain and the joy, the beauty
and the sorrow, the inner silence and the noise of the world".

I love this poem:

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become
shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own;
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us
to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty every day.
And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer~
<http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/home.html>

Have you ever...

Have you ever embarked on a course of action that you suspect won't be good for you? Or that would be good in some part, but bad in others?

Four weeks ago, I signed my name to an intensive physiotherapy regime, for six weeks, to get my back back to ship-shape after a car accident just before Christmas.

I knew that this, in combination with Buddhist studies and my BC Geography class, would render my free time obsolete. And the free time I have had, I've been tired, with little energy to see anyone. So... I knew I was embarking on an isolationist path, and isolation and I don't always go so well together. And now, at the 4 week mark, I haven't really seen anyone for weeks. I miss everyone. I feel alone. I'm behind in my studies. And I find myself thinking...

I have these dreams, of working in third world countries, and have had them since I was a teenager. Pretty far away from my friends and family, no?

And "shouldn't" I be "OK" by myself? BTW, should-ing is a pet peeve of mine, which I don't think anyone should beat on themselves with. So I use "shouldn't" as a signpost itself.

I will mention, having just remembered this myself, that I did take myself to the island last weekend, to be with Dad & Marie, and Mum & Donn. I really needed to be there, with family, and it was a wonderful visit. And my wonderful friend Craig helped me to do that worry-free, by looking after Quiero, my ultra-soft, green-eyed, black little cat. Thank you Craig.

Why is four weeks away from everyone so tough? I do "like the company I keep in the quiet moments". And perhaps that is the key. Perhaps it is about moments, not days and weeks at a time. And maybe it's good to miss people. But what if i go away for a year? For 18 months? What will that look like?

On my fridge is a magnet. It says "Do the thing you think you cannot do". I bought it a few years ago, with a particular friend in mind, who I thought might benefit from a nudge. I never gave it to him. And now, it serves as a daily reminder, to keep risking, to keep growing. It keeps nudging me towards the biggest changes i've ever contemplated. Thinning out my strange and wonderful possessions (which in turn, possess me); get light enough to be able to pick up and go! Wherever I want.

Then there's the dream of meeting someone, someone to share my life with, someone to build a life with - guess I don't plan to meet that person here and grow roots! Or do I? Would I? What questions...