In being who I am, the ability to give love is the greatest gift in my world. Sometimes I take that for granted, other times I question it. There are times still when I can feel myself wanting to give over my whole into this great trust that we can build up into a word. Still though, it is something that we allow to be a save-all halo that can change everything. I am a believer in the universe unfolding as it likes while at the same time showing you little signs along the way to let you know you are on the right path. I guess it is all in the noticing.
Tonight I sat over torn up slices of maps that I took home from a recycling bin at work. Thinking I could make something lovely out of the remains I rolled them up on Valentines Day and tonight unfurled them in hopes of seeing some potential in the black squares of major cities and red streak of the 99.
Osoyoos I cut out and popped in a gaudy frame that I had painted white last summer. I grew up in this lake town seeing the Ogopogo with full certainty after learning that my mother had seen the same in her youth. Maybe this memory something that I have built up after the fact, but I can still look back at it in my heart and trust it completely; something far fetched but all the more worthwhile. When I was six a fish bit my foot and none of the adults believed me. That is until a 45 year old father of two had his own incident after heading down the slide set out a few meters offshore. I felt like a champion of truth.
I have memories of eating tacos over checkered tablecloths in a Mexican resturant set in an old movie theater with a slanty floor, the time when the water bomber picked up at our lake and flew right by overhead on it's way to fight fires, and the way that my brand new puppy peed on the road outside of the campsite of a very mean family. It was uphill but the yellow line encroached futher and further, passing the boundary into their site. That night I sung Molly lullabies in the back of my families minifan and kissed her on the soft spot of head to make her feel at home.
I would spend days on end floating in the shallows of Osoyoos Lake with my yearly snorkeling set, bought at Princes in Walla Walla Washington, hunting for gold. Each afternoon I would pull my chubby waterlogged body out of the cold for B&M beans and Tim's Cascade chips, clutching rocks that sparkled in the sideways sunlight. Flecks of fools gold were embedded in them and sometimes they seemed too made solely of silvery diamond specks as opposed to the yellow stuff. The smell of poplars gives my stomach memory of too many cherries in the best possible way.
Besides the general overview of Vancouver as a whole, British Columbia and Quebec found their ways onto the faces of classic paintings with the help of some tape to be hugged by the white frames. It could be wishful thinking that this new place may grow the same sort of memories for me but if we have the power to make our dreams happen we might as well give it a shot.
I have found myself choking back the future as of the past while. Weekly bursts of clarity and wakefulness flowing from abysses of all consuming passiveness come more frequently then they have ever and I know I am on the right path simply from that.
My own experience with love has been trying. The word I have chosen to describe so many of my experiences is often too hasty, in an attempt to make it so with air passing through my lips. I have come to understand that within me it is not in the needing or wanting but in the choosing. As it takes a life, flowing with the growth and contraction of relationships, the decision to stay committed to the steady core of a person. I am not a believer in souls and as our experiences open our eyes to ideologies and gentile opinions, this 'core' that we dream of will take on movements they will and will not choose. Still, if we open our hearts to this reality, despite the fact that we may not have made the same decisions as these few that are close to us, we will love that essence; the decision to go left or right, because they have made it themselves.
Growing up I had become more and more determined that the love that I would feel for a person would be the "truest" that I have ever felt. Today I will deny that statement that has stayed for longer than warranted. Each love is true in to itself. In its changing forms, it shapes our world. I can build expectation, hope, knowing, commitment and the ability to walk away. The ability to be love itself frees one from the binds of pity and hate. It levels.
I don't know what love has to do with taking this next big step in my life on some levels. Maybe it has to do with loving myself and following through on a dream, or perhaps the resembelence lies in not having to be afraid. Shit will happen, experiences will be had that may hurt or raise me to heights of wonder that I would have not known otherwise. Most of all I can't shake the feeling that moving on to this world in which I will walk for the first time on my own legs, will be what I let it. Live it without expectation or comparison, trying to follow my gut and to not loose track of who I am now or am begining to be.
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