I have decided that I'm not a fan of realism. I just got back from a rather impractically planned adventure. I took a twelve-ish hour bus ride to north eastern Quebec to learn French for five weeks. For starters it was impractical because my bus left at 12 am, or something crazy like that. Why would I buy a ticket for such an ungodly hour? Especially when I live in a super sketchy town. It was because of the second impractical aspect of this whole adventure. I didn't speak French, like at all. I knew how to say "Good day, or morning, or night, my name is Laurissa, I do not know, and I do not understand, but it is very poetic, and I like potatoes, yes! good? Well? Bad? No? Maybe. Excuse me thank you my friend." (That is literally very close to all I knew how to say but you'd be surprised how many different things you can say by rearranging the words in that sentence.) So I didn't know French and I had signed a sheet promising to only speak French for five weeks. I was going to be living in a stranger's house and going to school with more strangers and I wouldn't be able to speak English with any of these strangers. To top it all off I was going to arrive alone in a strange city where few people spoke my language after a 12 hour bus ride and have to figure out how to get a taxi. I didn't want to face this mountain at night so I left in the night so I would arrive in the day. It wasn't a very reasonable thing to do, it could have been dangerous. But at the last minute my roommate volunteered to drive me to the bus station and all is well that ends well.
The day we all got sorted into our classes the head of the program spoke to us in English one final time. He said that everyone in class one or two (I was in class one) was very courageous, and in my head I wondered if he was using courageous as a synonym for foolish. The whole first week I kept asking myself what I was doing there. I didn't understand my professor and it seemed like everybody else did. I didn't understand my roommates who were in class six and could have full out conversations with each other or with our host. I definitely didn't understand our host. I was relived that my roommates could do most of the talking, but he kept asking me questions and trying to include me in the conversation and challenging me to use French and I just really wanted to go hide. Nothing about this makes me think going there was a reasonable decision and in that first week I wondered "Why did I waste money to come here? I'm probably not going to learn anything. I'm too stupid. Everyone else here is smarter than me. I am slow in English and in French I'm down right stupid. Everyone probably hates me." But you know what? Five weeks later and I made friends, learned French, got better at charades and interpreting context, learned about a culture very important to my country, and grew as a person. It wasn't a very reasonable decision but I'm glad I made it.
When my five weeks were up I got on a bus at about ten in the morning on a Friday and finally got off my last bus at about 12:30 on the Saturday. Everyone kept asking me why I was travelling so far.Was I from that far away? Nope. I was going to a wedding. Yep that's right, more than 24 hours on a bus or in a bus station just for one day and night reunited with old friends to celebrate the marriage of a lady I look up to very much. Not only that but I got there about a half an hour before the ceremony started and had to change into my dress in the church bathroom. Please tell me what about this is reasonable? But you know what? I am so happy I did this. The close call was stressful but it makes a funny story and it was so worth all the hours and money I put into travelling to see all these people again and celebrate the love of one of the ladies I look up to.
All of this pondering was brought on by a conversation I had in broken French with my lovely colocataire in Quebec. I had been reading this book about this pastor's wife who was very poor and couldn't have babies so she went and adopted 12 unwanted children because she just wanted to love on them even though she and her husband didn't really have the funds. It worked out though. One way or another those babies were clothed, fed, and loved. So I read this book and I was like holy cracker jacks screw school I just want to be a mum, I just want to be done school and married and opening up my doors and my cupboards and my arms to all the broken, lonely, hungry, unloved children in this here world. Why is loving so complicated I wailed in broken French. Why do I need a husband and money and a house and food and to be approved by an adoption company and probably a job why can't I just get on with loving the world? And I would just like to say that I love my colocataire and I think she is a lovely poetic lady with a giant ocean of a heart and so much love its just that she also has a drop of reason, but its a good solid balance to all her poetry.
I think she said something along the lines of that I need money and maturity and things like that to make my love helpful. It's all well and good to open up our arms with good intentions but if we don't add a bit of reason to those intentions we could end up making a mess of our attempts to love the universe.
And there is truth in that. Want to know what I mean? Just read or listen to some academic discourse about the true complexities of helping out overseas and how guilt ridden rich people can sometimes cause more pain than joy in their attempts to ease their guilt in a week long volunteer trip.
So yeah there is some truth in it, but I'm still not convinced. And I mean nothing bad to my lovely colocataire. It's just that, some of the best things that have been done in this world were done by people that everyone thought were fools, until they succeeded.
Also lets look at Jesus. The biggest fool ever if that story ended differently. He stood up to the authorities and spoke with authority that no person had given him. He hung out with the outcasts. He didn't fight back at his death. What the heck Jesus? What the heck?
But He was the Son of God dawg and His death saved lives and his wacky way of life? Well billions everywhere are stumbling in those wacky footsteps.
The problem is a lot of people have done a lot of horrible things in the name of the greater good, in the name of God. But if its really Jesus your following your steps may seem crazy in the moment but they are really the best steps you could take.
Sometimes it pays to take risks and to walk outside of the realm of reason. Sometimes it ruins lives. It all depends. Are you following a reason greater than that of the masses (like Jesus did) or are you just going off of your own unreasonable reason? Cause that could get any of us in trouble.
P.S. the first examples I used are not so much examples of following Jesus' radical life as they are just relatable metaphors for unreasonable movements and an explanation of how my thought process got sparked and a fun commentary on my life recently.
Sunday, 16 June 2013
Wednesday, 12 June 2013
Confessions of a Loner
One of the things I have struggled with most in my life is loneliness. It started when I was a little kid. I was homeschooled and we didn't have a car so we never got to attend events with our home school group. I did have my sister and a couple kids to play with in the neighbourhood. My church had like no youth group or anything during the week. There was Sunday school but there weren't really any other kids my age at my church. Everyone was younger or older. I blame my mum for wishing that if she ever got pregnant again no one would be pregnant at the same time because she hated the competitive comparisons: "my baby sleeps through the night" "my baby is already walking" "my baby said mommy" "my baby goes pee pee in the potty" "blah blah blah," It is all well and good that she wanted me to be able to grow up at my own pace, but I would have liked some company.
The other problem was that I have always been a little odd. For starters I am extremely emotional. You may think that now I get angry or sad way too easy and take it way too seriously when I don't understand, but you should have seen me when I was a kid. I have issues with emotions. I get that and I've been working my whole life at learning how to express them appropriately.
It seems to me like my quirks just grew as I grew.
I spent so much time alone as a kid that I started to become my own person. I didn't spend enough time around other people to learn how to change myself in accordance with the likes, interests, and behaviors of those around me. This is a good thing, I think. It means I never really experienced not knowing who I am. I've always struggled to figure out how I fit in the world, but I've always known who I am because I have never had a chance to be anyone but me.
It's funny because everyone always says "be yourself" and people always talk about the tragedy of not knowing who you are, but here I am being myself and no one ever knows what to think of it.
An interesting lesson I learned in high school (when I finally started public school in grade nine) is that patients are very useful. When I began high school no one really liked me. I made friends very slowly and I drove a lot of people crazy, for good reason. It wasn't just that I was weird. I was also very annoying because I was really stressed out by all the changes and hadn't figured out how to deal with my emotions. With time, however, a surprising majority of the people in my school warmed up to me and I even made a couple good friends. It was funny to watch. I might have matured a little, but not very much. It was the others who changed. They got used to me, and they began to understand me, and they decided they liked me. I still don't really understand it.
It makes short events like summer jobs, summer school, and camps really hard for me because people don't have enough time to get used to me and get to know me.
I've been told many times that I should just be happy for the friends I do have and I should learn to be happy inside of myself in a way that doesn't depend on my surroundings.
This is all well and good, but oh so much harder to do then to say.
The funny thing is that these days it doesn't actually bother me to be alone, but it bothers me that no one wants to hang out with me.
When I was a kid I was a naturally social person, but after all the difficulty that this caused me I started spending more and more time alone. I didn't really like to play alone but I loved to read alone. I also really loved repetitive actions like raking, sweeping, digging holes, scootering, rollerblading, and biking. I would entertain myself for hours on end with these activities, and this is how I became little miss analytical Laurissa. I had nothing to do with my life, so I thought about stuff. I learned to love this way of life, and now I need some time to myself to think or read and just let my brain be quieted. However, I still long for that true sense of belonging. I've almost tasted it a few times but not really. I like being alone, but I also want to belong. I've always been the weird one that people grow to love but never really welcome into the gang.
I know my self worth doesn't come from belonging, but longing for it is an emotion that I just can't let go of.
The other problem was that I have always been a little odd. For starters I am extremely emotional. You may think that now I get angry or sad way too easy and take it way too seriously when I don't understand, but you should have seen me when I was a kid. I have issues with emotions. I get that and I've been working my whole life at learning how to express them appropriately.
It seems to me like my quirks just grew as I grew.
I spent so much time alone as a kid that I started to become my own person. I didn't spend enough time around other people to learn how to change myself in accordance with the likes, interests, and behaviors of those around me. This is a good thing, I think. It means I never really experienced not knowing who I am. I've always struggled to figure out how I fit in the world, but I've always known who I am because I have never had a chance to be anyone but me.
It's funny because everyone always says "be yourself" and people always talk about the tragedy of not knowing who you are, but here I am being myself and no one ever knows what to think of it.
An interesting lesson I learned in high school (when I finally started public school in grade nine) is that patients are very useful. When I began high school no one really liked me. I made friends very slowly and I drove a lot of people crazy, for good reason. It wasn't just that I was weird. I was also very annoying because I was really stressed out by all the changes and hadn't figured out how to deal with my emotions. With time, however, a surprising majority of the people in my school warmed up to me and I even made a couple good friends. It was funny to watch. I might have matured a little, but not very much. It was the others who changed. They got used to me, and they began to understand me, and they decided they liked me. I still don't really understand it.
It makes short events like summer jobs, summer school, and camps really hard for me because people don't have enough time to get used to me and get to know me.
I've been told many times that I should just be happy for the friends I do have and I should learn to be happy inside of myself in a way that doesn't depend on my surroundings.
This is all well and good, but oh so much harder to do then to say.
The funny thing is that these days it doesn't actually bother me to be alone, but it bothers me that no one wants to hang out with me.
When I was a kid I was a naturally social person, but after all the difficulty that this caused me I started spending more and more time alone. I didn't really like to play alone but I loved to read alone. I also really loved repetitive actions like raking, sweeping, digging holes, scootering, rollerblading, and biking. I would entertain myself for hours on end with these activities, and this is how I became little miss analytical Laurissa. I had nothing to do with my life, so I thought about stuff. I learned to love this way of life, and now I need some time to myself to think or read and just let my brain be quieted. However, I still long for that true sense of belonging. I've almost tasted it a few times but not really. I like being alone, but I also want to belong. I've always been the weird one that people grow to love but never really welcome into the gang.
I know my self worth doesn't come from belonging, but longing for it is an emotion that I just can't let go of.
Monday, 10 June 2013
To everyone I have ever known
To every person who has ever entered my life,
I want you to know how often I think about all who I have met. I think about all the people in the eight different churches and Christian youth organizations I was involved with growing up. I think about my old neighbours. I think about the people I met at our cottage. I think about the people I went to high school with. I think about the people I met on my volunteer trip to Kansas. I think about the other people in the park the two times I went camping with my extended family. I think about the people I met in Nemaska. I think about the people at Medeba. Of course I think often of my family in St. Thomas and of my friends and all the other people I have met in Peterborough, and when I leave here I will think often about all the people I met in Riviere-du-Loup.
There are some faces in my mind that are missing their names, a few names that have lost their faces, and I am sure there are some people who have slipped completely into the shadows of my mind. After all, there are more people who have entered my life than just the ones I met in the above places. There are people I smiled at wordlessly or said hello to on the streets or on a bus and there are strangers I waited in the bus station with for hours without even exchanging one word.
I have remembered more of you than you might believe, but even if I have forgotten some of you it is ok because, for better or for worse, big or small, you touched my heart and changed my life. Through that change a shadow of you is with me always.
I am learning to accept how many of you have become shadows in my life. Goodbyes are always hard and there have been times when I've struggled to embrace a moment because I was overwhelmed by the pain of knowing how quickly it would be over. There was a time when I wanted everything to last forever, but that isn't how this life thing works.
You touched my heart and now you are but a shadow in my mind and that's ok. I am a better person because of you. Whether you taught me strength through causing me pain or through building me up, you helped me on my way. For that I am thankful. Yes some of you are so poetic I want to make you small and carry you with me in my pocket wherever I go. Yes I long to gather you all together in one room, but that's not how this life thing works. You are where you are and I am here thinking of you but also enjoying the people I am with now, and I can't explain why this is beautiful even though it is sad, but I think it is and I'm at peace with it.
Now all that is left to say is thank you, for being who you are and for touching me how you did. I hope that whoever you are and wherever you are you are learning to be joyful.
Love
Laurissa
I want you to know how often I think about all who I have met. I think about all the people in the eight different churches and Christian youth organizations I was involved with growing up. I think about my old neighbours. I think about the people I met at our cottage. I think about the people I went to high school with. I think about the people I met on my volunteer trip to Kansas. I think about the other people in the park the two times I went camping with my extended family. I think about the people I met in Nemaska. I think about the people at Medeba. Of course I think often of my family in St. Thomas and of my friends and all the other people I have met in Peterborough, and when I leave here I will think often about all the people I met in Riviere-du-Loup.
There are some faces in my mind that are missing their names, a few names that have lost their faces, and I am sure there are some people who have slipped completely into the shadows of my mind. After all, there are more people who have entered my life than just the ones I met in the above places. There are people I smiled at wordlessly or said hello to on the streets or on a bus and there are strangers I waited in the bus station with for hours without even exchanging one word.
I have remembered more of you than you might believe, but even if I have forgotten some of you it is ok because, for better or for worse, big or small, you touched my heart and changed my life. Through that change a shadow of you is with me always.
I am learning to accept how many of you have become shadows in my life. Goodbyes are always hard and there have been times when I've struggled to embrace a moment because I was overwhelmed by the pain of knowing how quickly it would be over. There was a time when I wanted everything to last forever, but that isn't how this life thing works.
You touched my heart and now you are but a shadow in my mind and that's ok. I am a better person because of you. Whether you taught me strength through causing me pain or through building me up, you helped me on my way. For that I am thankful. Yes some of you are so poetic I want to make you small and carry you with me in my pocket wherever I go. Yes I long to gather you all together in one room, but that's not how this life thing works. You are where you are and I am here thinking of you but also enjoying the people I am with now, and I can't explain why this is beautiful even though it is sad, but I think it is and I'm at peace with it.
Now all that is left to say is thank you, for being who you are and for touching me how you did. I hope that whoever you are and wherever you are you are learning to be joyful.
Love
Laurissa
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Ode to Peterborough
Dear Peterborough.
I grew up in the part of South Western Ontario where small towns are wedged between soft cornfields and ocean-like great lakes. I lived and worked for six weeks in a quaint Northern town with just one store where four year olds wondered alone quite safely because everyone knew each other. I have visited and lived in towns so small that people know that you're a visitor. I have seen majestic rivers bordered by large rolling hills. I have visited multicultural urban cities and crumbling historical sites, but the place that I call home, the place where my heart is happiest, is just a boring old mid sized city situated on either side of a skinny dirty river.
But Peterborough, you are so much more than that to me.
Many others say you're too small to be interesting and too big to be quaint, but I know better.
I've walked past your pub patios on Friday nights in the summer time and heard the poetic mix of music and laughter that is night life done right and I've walked past little shops and cafes and bumped into friends on every corner in a way that makes you seem just about as quaint as can be.
And I know there are places with beauty that is more fit for a post card than yours is, because I've seen them. But Peterborough, you know I don't like my poetry in a can. I don't care much for beauty that anyone can see in just a second. I like to search for my beauty. You make it easy to find, but not too easy. I like that about you.
I love how you offer quiet country and forests within the bustle of a city.
I love your zoo, your river, your bridges, your market, your food not bombs, your hilly views, but most of all, dear dear Peterborough, I love your people.
When I stop to wonder why I love you so, that is biggest reason.
You are the first place I ever really and truly felt at home.
Thank you.
I miss you, but don't you worry. I will return.
Laurissa.
I grew up in the part of South Western Ontario where small towns are wedged between soft cornfields and ocean-like great lakes. I lived and worked for six weeks in a quaint Northern town with just one store where four year olds wondered alone quite safely because everyone knew each other. I have visited and lived in towns so small that people know that you're a visitor. I have seen majestic rivers bordered by large rolling hills. I have visited multicultural urban cities and crumbling historical sites, but the place that I call home, the place where my heart is happiest, is just a boring old mid sized city situated on either side of a skinny dirty river.
But Peterborough, you are so much more than that to me.
Many others say you're too small to be interesting and too big to be quaint, but I know better.
I've walked past your pub patios on Friday nights in the summer time and heard the poetic mix of music and laughter that is night life done right and I've walked past little shops and cafes and bumped into friends on every corner in a way that makes you seem just about as quaint as can be.
And I know there are places with beauty that is more fit for a post card than yours is, because I've seen them. But Peterborough, you know I don't like my poetry in a can. I don't care much for beauty that anyone can see in just a second. I like to search for my beauty. You make it easy to find, but not too easy. I like that about you.
I love how you offer quiet country and forests within the bustle of a city.
I love your zoo, your river, your bridges, your market, your food not bombs, your hilly views, but most of all, dear dear Peterborough, I love your people.
When I stop to wonder why I love you so, that is biggest reason.
You are the first place I ever really and truly felt at home.
Thank you.
I miss you, but don't you worry. I will return.
Laurissa.
Saturday, 8 June 2013
For times when you sort of kind of just hate yourself
I have noticed that one of the biggest mountains that get in the way in my own personal fight for joy is that of self hatred. I am constantly reminded of all my faults and mistakes when I look at myself where it is usually at least a little easier to see the good in others or forgive their bad aspects. I am always comparing myself to others and also to this perfect person who exists only in my head. Also, every little bit of criticism from other people goes straight to my heart whether this is noticeable or not.
I know I am not alone in this. What I want to talk about is not the problem but the solution. I often hear people say that everyone is wonderful and beautiful and we all just need to love ourselves and love each other. This bothers me because I know the truth. I know the horror that people are capable of and I know the dark rooms of my own heart. I don't think the solution is just to see the good and ignore the bad. That could lead to a horrible world where the evil in us all is allowed free rein because everyone ignores it and we never deal with it.
There are people who say that criticism shouldn't get you down but should be taken as advice and mistakes should be lessons for self improvement. I have met people like this and you know what? Their spirits are often not very calm because they live their lives trying to do better and be better and it doesn't calm the storms of self hatred in their mind, it spurs them on and makes them bigger.
My favourite way to tackle this problem is expressed well by the poetic Mr. John Green: "the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive." This matches up with Christianity doesn't it? After all Jesus doesn't say do better and be better or I don't know you. He offers forgiveness no matter what your life is like. Yes he offers a slow and beautiful transformation, but hey do you really want to keep being all the parts of you that aren't that great? Nah, sanctification is a glorious thing, but it isn't what gives us forgiveness and love, those are just given free of charge to those who believe. If the religion is based on forgiveness why not let it be a way of life? I could be wrong but I think that the best way to deal with self hatred is to forgive yourself. You got problems. You are not 100% beautiful inside and out, you have issues. Issues you can't erase just by waking up and trying harder to do better. BUT if the maker of the universe is a forgiver, why not forgive yourself? Yes embrace the process of sanctification. I don't want to be this mess forever, but its a slow process and in the mean time I'm learning to forgive myself and remember that Jesus loves me not because I'm an awesome possum aardvark, but because He is.
Unfortunately forgiveness is easier said then done. It is hard to forgive yourself when people are always pointing out your flaws and expecting you to fix them. The world doesn't operate on forgiveness but on this weird attempted system of fairness. "You get what you deserve." Which makes no sense because we all actually deserve a lot less than you might think. I wouldn't want to get what I deserve. When you realise that you might not actually want what you deserve it is a little easier to give to others the forgiveness they don't deserve and when someone else forgives you it is a little easier to forgive yourself, so lets all try to be forgiving people, but I mean we'll have to learn to forgive those who don't forgive. Oh life, it's confusing.
Also I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm just thinking out loud, so I'm sorry if I make no sense.
I know I am not alone in this. What I want to talk about is not the problem but the solution. I often hear people say that everyone is wonderful and beautiful and we all just need to love ourselves and love each other. This bothers me because I know the truth. I know the horror that people are capable of and I know the dark rooms of my own heart. I don't think the solution is just to see the good and ignore the bad. That could lead to a horrible world where the evil in us all is allowed free rein because everyone ignores it and we never deal with it.
There are people who say that criticism shouldn't get you down but should be taken as advice and mistakes should be lessons for self improvement. I have met people like this and you know what? Their spirits are often not very calm because they live their lives trying to do better and be better and it doesn't calm the storms of self hatred in their mind, it spurs them on and makes them bigger.
My favourite way to tackle this problem is expressed well by the poetic Mr. John Green: "the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive." This matches up with Christianity doesn't it? After all Jesus doesn't say do better and be better or I don't know you. He offers forgiveness no matter what your life is like. Yes he offers a slow and beautiful transformation, but hey do you really want to keep being all the parts of you that aren't that great? Nah, sanctification is a glorious thing, but it isn't what gives us forgiveness and love, those are just given free of charge to those who believe. If the religion is based on forgiveness why not let it be a way of life? I could be wrong but I think that the best way to deal with self hatred is to forgive yourself. You got problems. You are not 100% beautiful inside and out, you have issues. Issues you can't erase just by waking up and trying harder to do better. BUT if the maker of the universe is a forgiver, why not forgive yourself? Yes embrace the process of sanctification. I don't want to be this mess forever, but its a slow process and in the mean time I'm learning to forgive myself and remember that Jesus loves me not because I'm an awesome possum aardvark, but because He is.
Unfortunately forgiveness is easier said then done. It is hard to forgive yourself when people are always pointing out your flaws and expecting you to fix them. The world doesn't operate on forgiveness but on this weird attempted system of fairness. "You get what you deserve." Which makes no sense because we all actually deserve a lot less than you might think. I wouldn't want to get what I deserve. When you realise that you might not actually want what you deserve it is a little easier to give to others the forgiveness they don't deserve and when someone else forgives you it is a little easier to forgive yourself, so lets all try to be forgiving people, but I mean we'll have to learn to forgive those who don't forgive. Oh life, it's confusing.
Also I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm just thinking out loud, so I'm sorry if I make no sense.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Thoughts of a tourist.
As my feet carried me deeper into Vieux Quebec, my heart stretched come a balloon expanding to store up the poetry. Stone was everywhere. It made up the buildings and the narrow roads, it was old and textured come a chest for guarding all the moments of the past. Standing there, surrounded by history it seemed I could reach out and truly know the ways of before. I felt as though a novel would just spill out of my heart if I stood long enough with my hand on those walls and my feet on the streets.
All I wanted to do was walk des rues with my heart wide open letting the beauty run in and then sit in a café writing to let the creativity spill out. When I walked I wanted to wander blind, just going wherever the poetry led. I ended up wandering seul beaucoup parce que les autres seemed to have a lot of plans and I didn't want to bother with a map or group discussions, although I did sometimes. I was happiest when "marche suite à mon Coeur."
The one thing that did bother me was how capitalistic and touristy Vieux Quebec has become. There are a few nice artisan shops and cafes, but there is a lot of tacky stores and even some chain fast food joints. I suppose that is just the way of our world these days, and it is poetic in its own right. The fact that this big wide world has become so interconnected is kind of beautiful. There is something to be said for being able to eat in the same restaurant anywhere in the world even if it is just McDonalds. Just being able to be a tourist is a beautiful privilege. Years ago I would never have the luxury to see another person's far away daily surroundings, now there is a whole industry supporting my desire to do so.
Tourism is interesting. All this stress to find what your looking for only to eat the food you always do and buy souvenirs that may have just been made in china. I would rather just find the poetry in a boring not well known small town than do all that, but I do like tourism when I have the option to do it my way, like this weekend when I just wandered around following my heart.
Another interesting phenomenon is that of pictures. I don't have a camera, so when everyone else is running around taking photos (like in Quebec city or on the mountain top a couple weekends ago) I just sit back and watch. I wonder if there is something to be said for getting to know people through taking pictures with them and for making mementos to remember the people who touched your lives and the places that touched your heart. I would kind of like to have something to show my mother, although I don't think anyone else would be interested. Therefore, there is a jealous part of my heart when the cameras come out, but there is another inner voice that says how lovely it is to just enjoy the moment instead of spending the whole moment trying to save the moment forever. Moments don't last you know. Adventures like this teach you that. You make friends, you fall in love with places, you collect beautiful moments, but then they are over and you can either try to hold on to them with pictures and stay in touch through Facebook and email, or you can accept that sometimes the beauty is in the fleetingness of it all and sometimes Dr. Seuss is right and we really just need to smile because it happened instead of crying because it is over. There is probably a time and place for both.
All I wanted to do was walk des rues with my heart wide open letting the beauty run in and then sit in a café writing to let the creativity spill out. When I walked I wanted to wander blind, just going wherever the poetry led. I ended up wandering seul beaucoup parce que les autres seemed to have a lot of plans and I didn't want to bother with a map or group discussions, although I did sometimes. I was happiest when "marche suite à mon Coeur."
The one thing that did bother me was how capitalistic and touristy Vieux Quebec has become. There are a few nice artisan shops and cafes, but there is a lot of tacky stores and even some chain fast food joints. I suppose that is just the way of our world these days, and it is poetic in its own right. The fact that this big wide world has become so interconnected is kind of beautiful. There is something to be said for being able to eat in the same restaurant anywhere in the world even if it is just McDonalds. Just being able to be a tourist is a beautiful privilege. Years ago I would never have the luxury to see another person's far away daily surroundings, now there is a whole industry supporting my desire to do so.
Tourism is interesting. All this stress to find what your looking for only to eat the food you always do and buy souvenirs that may have just been made in china. I would rather just find the poetry in a boring not well known small town than do all that, but I do like tourism when I have the option to do it my way, like this weekend when I just wandered around following my heart.
Another interesting phenomenon is that of pictures. I don't have a camera, so when everyone else is running around taking photos (like in Quebec city or on the mountain top a couple weekends ago) I just sit back and watch. I wonder if there is something to be said for getting to know people through taking pictures with them and for making mementos to remember the people who touched your lives and the places that touched your heart. I would kind of like to have something to show my mother, although I don't think anyone else would be interested. Therefore, there is a jealous part of my heart when the cameras come out, but there is another inner voice that says how lovely it is to just enjoy the moment instead of spending the whole moment trying to save the moment forever. Moments don't last you know. Adventures like this teach you that. You make friends, you fall in love with places, you collect beautiful moments, but then they are over and you can either try to hold on to them with pictures and stay in touch through Facebook and email, or you can accept that sometimes the beauty is in the fleetingness of it all and sometimes Dr. Seuss is right and we really just need to smile because it happened instead of crying because it is over. There is probably a time and place for both.
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