The Brevity of Spring [gallery]

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It went quickly. It’s now late May and the foliage looks full, leafy and summery. It’s amazing to think that by six months, all will be bare again. But for a few weeks…

Reminders of autumn, with the falling petals
Reminders of winter, with the still bare trees.
Reminders of spring, with the blossoms and tiny young leaves.
Reminders of summer, with some trees beginning to fill out in full leaf.

It lasted just for a few weeks when suddenly everything was full and green. Like summer.

But for about two weeks in April, it was like this:

Longing for Different Space

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I was born in the city. I grew up in the city. I live in the city. Not just any city – Canada’s third largest city. But I’ve never really liked the city. Sure, its a fun place to visit perhaps. It’s fun to meander into through sidewalks, alleyways, buildings and the seawall of course. But I don’t feel that it’s me, that it’s my space.

My spirit bounces uncomfortably off the buildings, walls. It’s trapped in tiny spaces full of strangers. I hate small places. I hate strangers. The scents of asphalt, gasoline, exhaust and garbage faintly linger in the air as I try to ignore them. Horns blare, vehicles rumble, people shout and sirens scream. It sounds like chaos but it’s not quite chaos, just merely at the breaking point of chaos. Still, I can do without it.

I literally bounce between walls (and bed, heh). There’s not enough space. I’m restless yet listless. It’s hard to think within walls. I find I have the most poetic thoughts when I’m outside. I wander in and out like some sort of domestic but independent animal. A cat perhaps.

I don’t remember when I first realized that I didn’t like the city but I do remember complaining about it, even when I was young. Perhaps, I realized it when I was young, by my grandma’s house and wandering in the tiny patch of woods. Sort of like a sample offering of wilderness, a demo you might say in the form of a trinket of woods at the park – but oh I wandered that path so many times. Ran through it. Cycled. Or perhaps it was when I started liking and riding horses (since horses are usually in the middle of nowhere). I love the smell of pine, pulsing water and horse. All different spaces. All away from urbanity.

But with nature it’s different. My spirit doesn’t seem to bounce of the trees, the bushes, the gurgling creeks, the sway of the ocean and animals. But rather, it seems to seep into them, into their roots and into their flow. It’s an anchor into the earth and an anchor into being. Where my spirit can explore. Where I can explore. Travel. Move. Where I’m not stuck, bouncing off the walls (sometimes literally). Where it is quiet and not full of strangers wanting to greet you. There is a certain tranquility to trees, rocks and water – a certain feeling of connection, of being.

I hate malls, aside for the purpose of climate controlled wandering. There’s too much people. Too much stuff. Maybe I’m weird since I’m a girl. But on the whole I hate shopping (save for electronics, horse stuff and stuff that I actually want). I especially hate shopping for clothes and shoes. My idea of “fun” is certainly not spending a day at the mall, trying everything on. No, I tried an afternoon of that for my high school grad and that was more than enough to make me irritable. I hate shopping. I use stores for wandering. Weird, I know. I’m not fond of most windowless elevators either. Actually, I hate machinary in general. I hate the noise. I hate the smell. Ugh.

Sometimes, I rush out of the door like a starting gate, obvious to anything else and lost in the rush of freedom.

I don’t know where I’ll be or live in the future. But I do wish it’ll be somewhere away from the city. I wish it would be somewhere nestled in the woods or whatever the natural ecosystem is. Wandering underneath the trees.   Somewhere where there is space. I also wish for a pony. I’m not kidding. We’ll do some ringwork, of course – enticing lands doesn’t mean we should be lazy, perhaps even an occasional show for the heck of it. But our main pastime would be exploring these natural lands astride my trusty (i.e. non-spooking) steed. Maybe that’s why I like large mammals. We need space. (I’m not very big myself though).

But I don’t know if that will ever happen.

For now, a weekly riding lesson, a daily (or more) wander under the planted trees and the occasional short hike will have to suffice.

Yes, for me basically anything outside is a hobby (well, excluding ice-skating which due to our climate is not often possible outdoors).


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The world is imploding
collapsing, falling on itself
the weight too heavy to bear

Fairness falls into greed
its spectre of wealth
all too alluring

Harmony tumbles into destruction
destroying the planet, societies
and ourselves

Love trips into hate
cupid arrows transform to gunshots –
missiles, bombs for reasons no one could remember

Understanding blurs into ignorance
from what other people have said
even though its only speculation

We dream of the stars, distinct galaxies
as if it could save the rainforests, oceans,
disappearing species all over the globe
as if it could stop the violence, greed
and corruption that stifles so many
as we desperately hope that
we can save ourselves from ourselves
before it’s too late

The world is imploding,
everything collapsing into itself
as we pretend that it’s not happening
try to believe that everything is alright
but it’s not.

Gone With the Wind*

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*because titles are much better as an allusion to a classic story that you have never actually read…or watched for that matter.

I know some people don’t like the wind. They complain how cold it is, how it makes a mess and how chilling it is again. Okay,  fine that makes sense, in the fall and winter. I’m not too fond of chilling winds either, the ones that walk through you as if they were winter ghosts.

But I love the wind that blows on a mild day.  I don’t know why people don’t like the wind in spring or summer but long for the sticky heat f0r some reason.  It baffles me.  But to each their own.

Still,  it’s the cold that makes me feel alive. The heat just makes me sticky. The wind rushes across my skin, chilling the surface and for that moment I know that I’m alive. That I’m in this world and the wind is with me.

But what I love most about the wind is the illusion of movement.

I’m tired of being stuck, of being chained to the ground. But when I face the wind, it’s as if I am moving without actually moving. I can feel the rush of air through my hair and on my skin. It’s as if I’m moving through the air, moving somewhere, going somewhere. But I’m not and the air is moving past me. But it’s the illusion of movement that I love –  that just for the moment I can forget all the chains, all the walls and all the fences and pretend that I am moving. Pretend that I’m actually moving forward.  That I am free.  I spread my arms as if I could catch the wind and fly.

I now know why birds have wings.  And so to the bats and the bees, the flies and some seeds of trees. Even the flying squirrel (okay I know it doesn’t really have actual things called wings per se but it’s still aerial right?).  They have wings so they can harness the wind and let it take them away. Take them to new places to find food, to make themselves a home, to explore.

But here I am again, still grounded – not quite able to achieve liftoff from my mundane life.  So I wait, eager for the next windy breeze in the sticky summer sun for the feeling of coolness, freshness and oh yes, freedom.