The gypsy in me.

Today I awoke a bit healthier than I have done in the last week or so. But what I awoke to was a longing for the visceral again. For actually seeing the world. Walking it. Interacting with it. Tasting it’s flavors. Understanding bits of it. Definitely appreciating it.

When I get this feeling at this level, it actually physically hurts that I'm not attaining it. It’s the deepest, most intense longing in me. It goes beyond even the desire for companionship.

It’s not about making my mark on the world. My time here on this planet, in the scope of all of history and all that is to come, is miniscule at most. It’s about BEING in it. Experiencing it. Knowing, truly knowing, the wonder of it during these moments I'm privileged to be in it. Glimpsing it’s beauty in this moment. Marveling at the cultures I encounter. And touching as much of it as I possibly can.

This. This is what drives me. What feeds me. I spend my time downloading books to my reader or films to my external hard drive in anticipation of the first step of this journey. Yet, in reality when I go I won’t give a crap about these things. I’ll care about engaging with what is around me. Not what is made to entertain. (Not that I obviously don’t enjoy these things… but they often can dilute the preciousness of the moment as well as suck time from this sacred interaction.)

I used the word “sacred.” I do see being deeply engaged in each moment as spiritual encounter – as the most profound way to honor the divine, or at least to honor this mysterious gift called life.

But I digress. This drive, this desire for a nomadic existence is both marvelous and maddening. How do I support myself financially is the most trying part to figure out. (Yes, I am open to suggestions – and especially connections.)

It is isolating, too. Many people I meet think it’s a great dream, but then have a lot of negative comments about it. They even become angry. I do understand. They have made choices in life that have allowed them to walk away from their dreams. To encounter someone who still holds to theirs is not always comfortable. It is only hard when I get discouraged and haven’t someone who believes in me and my goals to encourage me. (I’m so very grateful I have a few wonderful women who do that for me now. What a true blessing.)

Whatever this wayfaring passion is, it is my objective; my goal. my future. I just wish so much I knew how be in it now rather than always, ever “moving towards it.”

Timing is everything.

Hope. That’s what this is. I’d forgotten. Or at least, I’d forgotten the pleasant side of it. This last month, being out of touch, I have been discovering hope again… in the strangest of ways.

I suppose it had been building for a while, leading me to this place of feeling again. Then I had a couple weeks where suddenly I was feeling all the pain of the traumas of the last five years – all at once. It was nearly unbearable, but I knew that if I could feel this pain, if I could find a way to walk along with it, then I could again feel love and have passion and find… hope. I just didn’t want to be numb anymore, but until then didn’t have the tools – the pain and heartbreak – to be free of the anesthesia.

The thing about pain is that without feeling it we can’t feel anything. Not really. Certainly not deeply. Overwhelmed, I had flipped that switch to “off” in order to deal with the fallout of various extreme situations that I was bombarded with in rapid succession. However, by the time I wanted it turned on, I couldn’t reach it. I was so far from it wandering in that darkness, I couldn't even see it.

When I then all these years later unexpectedly backed into it, I was blinded by the light. It was incapacitating to experience so much emotional pain all at once. Now my heart has adjusted. (I’m so grateful.) And I find I have passion again… so much of it! Yet, now it it tempered with wisdom and experience, so it is a fuller and a more beautiful sort of passion.

I’m not saying everything’s perfect, and frankly I hope I never will say so – how boring that would be! I am saying I feel [internally] prepared for what may come. More, I am moving toward it with anticipation while still endeavoring to be present even in these duller moments.

As this hope builds, and more specifically as I complete my few remaining (time consuming) projects, I will be much more consistent with my blog entries… and I would imagine they will be getting more interesting as I enter into the flow of, well, my destiny.

Here’s hoping…

I believe.

So here I am, mid-game, with my Sharks jersey over my Sharks t-shirt with accenting Sharks jewelry and hidden beneath, a pair of Sharks thong undies. It’s silly, I know, but as I keep saying, I loves me my Sharkies… and I am eating up these playoffs!

In the Eastern Conference Finals you have the bottom two qualifying teams defying the odds, making for a gladiator-like match-up. That series is going to be about gumption, will, and most of all desire. Neither team has anything to loose and they leave it all out on the ice every game. That makes for amazing, no-holds-barred hockey. The Flyers and the Canadians will give hockey fans a great series.

In the Western Conference Finals, well, we have my Sharks. Okay, okay, and the Blackhawks. The two teams that finished first and second in the West. It’s all about power, skill, force, and flipping great goaltending. These two teams, coming off a week’s rest, are going to bowl each other over as much as they can. This is a hard-core match-up.

The thing about this post season is that there are so many things happening that haven’t happened in decades, if ever. It’s exciting and thrilling because you never know what’s going to happen; what the outcome will be. Stats are out the window, no matter how much the announcers like to throw them out there…

[Fast forward 30 minutes of game play] Well, the first game of the third round is in the books, and the Blackhawks came away with the win. I’m of course suffering for it, but it was a well-played game and the Sharks aren’t even close to out of it yet. They played strong, in truth for the most part they played a stronger game than the Blackhawks, and with so much hockey left to play, I BELIEVE.

You know, as a fan this match-up is rough for me. I have one team I love far-and-away above all others – obviously the Sharks. However, I have two other teams that come in (a distant) second. Because I lived in Washington, D.C. for several years (and because I’m a huge Ovechkin fan), I cheer for the Capitals in the East. Then, and here’s my dilemma, of the Original Six teams that formed the NHL back in the day, the Blackhawks are my team.

When they aren’t against the Sharks or battling the Sharks for position in the Conference, I cheer for them as well. In this post season, I have cheered against them every series because I knew that they would be the Sharks most difficult opponent; that they would be their greatest challenge. No matter how much I love intense, great match-ups, I want my team to make it to the Cup – and win – so I want the easiest path possible.

But here we are. Sharks versus Blackhawks. And even with this first loss, I’m excited! I guess it’s a good thing I have two pair of Sharks thong undies…

Great expectations.

Indulgence. Why is that such a hard concept for me when it comes to reading? Up until a few years ago I mostly read by mood. I’m in the mood for a classic, I pick one and read it. I’m in the mood for fluff, so be it. I’m in the mood for a WW2 biography, bring it on!

Then I joined, and quickly was helping lead, an online book club. Suddenly I had a list. I was passionate about this list. No, to be honest it wasn’t so much passion as compulsion. I get that way about lists. So I collected all but 4 of the 118 books on the list I didn’t yet own, plus a few on the periphery group list as well. Sadly, I found two other lists to obsess about on top of the first. It wasn’t pretty. (I blame my ex – everything was his fault during that time!) After a while it kind of felt like a chore to read the books the group chose. I didn’t like that it felt that way, because often they were books I was really looking forward to and occasionally, it was even a title I had selected.

The other compulsion that occasionally overcomes me when selecting my next book is this feeling that I “ought to” read something. I think this comes a bit from being a literature major, as well as being someone who wants to continue to expand my brain and be “well-read.” It also comes from my upbringing in that you do the difficult and unenjoyable first, then if there is time you can do something pleasurable. (This didn’t serve me well in college because I loved my major so I’d always leave that work for last and things I would have aced I struggled with!) The trouble with the “ought to” mentality is that when I’m not into a book, I flounder.

I guess what I’m saying is that I need to read for joy. This means being excited, anticipating, and being in the mood to read it. Also, I need to quit selecting something because it’s on a list and I want to keep crossing books off. I need to read what interests me in the moment, and along the way, those books will get read because it will be the right timing and my mood will take me there.

So, the question becomes, what books in my to-read pile am I most looking forward to reading? What have I delayed reading for those “ought to’s” and list books? These are what I came up with:

• The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie
• The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier
• Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
• Ballad of the Whiskey Robber by Julian Rubinstein
• American Gods and the other unread books by Neil Gaiman
• The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim
• The Inkheart Trilogy by Cornelia Funke
• All Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett titles I haven’t yet read
• The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas
• North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
• The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
• Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
• I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
• Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino
• Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde
• The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Series by Douglas Adams

It’s a pretty eclectic list. Actually, there are quite a few more, but these seem to float to the surface most often when I’m looking at my library and wishing. Oh, and these are just from the books I already own (except for the complete canons of Gaiman, Chandler, & Hammett – still a few to fill in on each). Also, this list doesn't include recommended books I'm excited for either.

So, while I’m sure I’ll continue to intersperse some of the more educational and spiritual reads, I’m excited to start diving in to my joy and reading these. The trouble is choosing just one with which to begin!

Time to indulge…

Puck me.

I’m a hockey fan. A rabid one. If you’ve been reading this blog long, particularly around the Olympics, you know this. So with the Stanley Cup Playoffs starting a few weeks ago, you might have noticed that a blog entry on the subject was conspicuously absent. Let me explain…

I love me my San Jose Sharks. Last season they ended the regular season with the best record in the league, setting all sorts of records along the way, which gave them the President’s Cup. But then in the very first round of the playoffs, when playing the last to qualify in the Western Conference, they were knocked out. That was it for their post season. The best in the league was knocked out by one of the worst that qualified (and an archenemy, no less). Joy.

This season they finished at the top of said Western Conference. As a fan this time around, I was too wary to hope too much. After last season, and the several seasons before with desperately disappointing post season endings and people talking about “curses” and other such nonsense, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk about my team and profess a hope and excitement. I didn’t exactly think it would jinx them, more I didn’t want to be that much more disappointed. It was me trying to temper my desire and hope.

In fact, I didn’t even go to a playoff game. I always do, but this time I just couldn’t handle that thrill if it was to end in heartbreak early on again.

However, they made it past the first round. The Sharks are into the quarter finals! I am now moderately hopeful.

Beyond my trepidation for my beloved team, this year’s playoffs have been some of the most exciting I’ve ever seen. Two matchups played all seven of a best of seven series. Five series ended after six games, and only one finished after five games. No one ran away with a series. THAT’S exciting hockey!

I hope that round two can deliver as much back-and-forth, evenly matched action… except when the Sharks play, of course! Say it with me, now…

Go Sharks!

Where I am.

I’m a little out of rhythm. Out of rhythm of writing, yes, but out of rhythm of living, too. I guess that’s what being sick is.

Last week I finally took the initiative and dove into The Great Purge. I was fierce and fast and exceedingly effective. I was on my way to having it all taken care of likely within the week. But then.

I hate that so often it is when you are burning bright and really accomplishing something that you are struck down physically. Why must that be? After years of not getting The Great Purge done, I’m finally motivated and wholly committed to it’s completion in short order. Instead I’m weak and in bed with a chesty cough.

I don’t mind being reminded to slow down and relax now and then, but this time it’s more like I’m being mocked. You’re getting something monumental done? Mu-ah-hahaha, now I have you! *Bang!* Struck down and doing nothing.

The process of The Great Purge is a difficult one in places. It’s fantastic to finally have access to all my things after all these years, and to ruthlessly sort and mostly purge. However, when I get to the items that bring up memories lost, of a self that is no more, it can become emotional. There is no better way to realize how we modify our memories than to go through this process. It’s strange, it’s difficult, and sometimes it’s wonderful.

As I lay here in bed recovering, pining to be working again, I most of all cannot wait to have less, and to have that little bit completely organized. To me that is freedom.

The wondrous spectacle.

“…in what other place does the queen of silence show us more splendour…” - François-Xavier Garneau

With all lights out, I sat in front of a giant LCD LED HDTV with the surround sound turned up to decibels never before reached in this household to fully experience the festivities of the opening ceremonies of the 21st Winter Olympic Games. I mean, this is a one-night-only live show on which was spent 35 million dollars and the likes of which New York and Las Vegas shows can’t compare. With this killer system, it was nearly like being there… except I was in my robe instead of one of those white poufy parka-mini-skirts the help had on! And I didn’t get to bang a drum, darn it.

The lead up to the event included a wonderful reflection on Canadian-American relations and a lovely segment about carrying the torch near the arctic circle. Even the premier of the new version of the song “We Are the World,” recorded to benefit Haiti relief, was moving. But the main event was just getting underway!

I loved the visuals and the lead in with the sights of Canada and the snowboarder heading down the mountain and… into the arena. Really a great way to showcase the country’s beauty. One observation I had early on was when the Royal Canadian Mounted Police were carrying in the Canadian flag. I was slightly surprised and not a little impressed that of the eight holding the flag, five were women. It’s not the typical idea of an RCMP, but rather an exciting one I think. What an honor to be chosen, too, regardless of sex.

Watching all the athletes in their procession, I observed that there really are a lot of beautiful people in this world. Really. I thought the colorful giant paisley print pants of Azerbaijan get the award for most daring outfit, far outstripping the Bermuda shorts of the (duh) Bermuda delegation. I thought Russia’s jackets were by far the nicest looking. (But then, if you don’t yet know, I adore red!) I was excited that there was a woman competing for Iran for the first time in the Winter Games – AND she carried their flag.

But most of all I was moved when the dancers stopped and the audience gave a standing ovation for the entrance and procession of the Georgian delegation. Such a truly tragic – and horrific – thing to loose such a young teammate (21) the day his dreams were to come to fruition. Kudos to both the Chilean and Croatian delegations for wearing the black armbands as a sign of respect. How sad that none of the bigger countries, or at least all the other lugers, didn’t follow suit.

As to the ceremonies themselves, I was delighted. So many things stand out. That 16 year old Nikki Yanofsky singing their national anthem – wow! The entire fiddling & tapping sequence was outstanding, exciting, and inspiring – fully my kind of thing, and so much energy! k.d. lang was utterly amazing singing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” (I’ve never been a fan of hers, but that one performance caused me to want to be one.) And that slam-poet Shane Koyczan was phenomenal. Made me wish I was Canadian. Nearly. “…Don’t let your luggage define your travels – each life unravels differently…” Fantastic!

And then there was the torch lighting. But it’s a little hard for me to comment on it, as I was watching it via DVR (so as to skip commercials all night), so it cut out during the extended delay they had waiting for… I don’t know what. I missed it entirely – and was incredibly irked about it! Four and a half hours, and I miss the finale! I’m hoping it will eventually be posted online, but no luck so far.

I know it’s a bit silly to go on about this, but really it’s so thrilling to this child-like soul. I love the competition and the sport. I love the stories of overcoming personal struggles to just BE there. (Like that athlete from Tajikistan who didn’t qualify, but they let come be a part of it just for the experience – he won’t compete. He’s that country’s only athlete.) I love the spotlight on a city and country – in this case one of my favorite cities to which I’ve ever been. And I do love the pride of country that comes forth. It’s going to be a great two weeks.