“The light you see at the end of the tunnel is the front of an oncoming train” – David Lee Roth
I am a ball of contradictions floating around in existential limbo. I mean, more so than usual… All this is to say, if I made mud pies out of wilderness, would you pity me enough to buy them on Etsy?
I wouldn’t be lying if I told you that it irks me when people blog about milestones in their lives, say, their birthday, with an air of reflective melodrama.
I also wouldn’t be lying if I told you that it irks me even more when said bloggers start posting about their birthday with a disclaimer that they don’t like talking about their birthday but nevertheless continue to vomit out an entire post pregnant with pensiveness, meandering with mindfulness, and spewing self-awareness of everything save their own bullshit.
This semester I have the opportunity to formalize some of my past year’s gardening experience by taking the Organic Master Gardener online course through Gaia College. This weekend I had the privilege of attending Guelph Organic Conference. Both activities were mutually informative and are giving me a lot to think about (so much so that I have to write about it!) and I am so grateful that my employers would sponsor my personal and professional development in these ways.
Is it just me, or have our words gone into hibernation? A friend intends to write a poem and gives up when he realizes he just doesn’t have the words. Another has the desire to pray, but wishes for modern liturgies and pre-scripted prayers because, sometimes, the words just don’t come!
Likewise, only 30% of my latest blog post were my own words (2469/3616 words were part of direct quotes). Even in my parallel journaling life, where I can usually fill several pages at a time with no trouble (other than hand cramps), my most recent entries are as close as I can imagine to what brain farts would look like on paper. I’ve resorted to copying passages of text verbatim, perchance to channel the energy of others at their best while I am at my worst.
One of my favourite times of the year is when UofT colleges have their annual book sale.
First-Order Confession: One of my least-guilty guilty pleasures is buying old books (–I wish I’d use the library more!). Second-Order Confession: One of my more-guilty guilty pleasures is bookshelf-virtue-signalling.
To prevent the regression of my better guilty pleasures to its lesser form, I tell myself upon purchasing such books that I must read them all. I am maybe 20% successful; and even less if you include the books from last year’s book sale that I haven’t started.
This blog post will be a reflection on the dominant themes in four books of such books.
I’ve been thinking about how much I rely on examples for both functions of communication: comprehension and expression. I appreciate having examples to understand, but I fear using example to express. As I become more conscious of how I engage examples in communication, my relationship with them becomes more akin to “reverence”. Examples are powerful communication tools.
Some post-graduation goals I have: (1) run a half marathon, (2) learn to use power tools, (3) read, (4) write, and (5) draw. Am I having a quarter life crisis or do all my post-grad wishes sound like retirement hobbies?
I did end up running that half marathon (never again), but wielding power tools is still in the domain of wishful thinking. Commuting 3+ hours per day is great for reading, and starting this blog is helping me (re)discover my writing voice. Drawing is something I’ve always enjoyed, and I don’t want to wait until I retire to make it a priority.
In the days following our high school graduation, my friends and I sat in a circle on a patch of lawn beside the school’s science wing where so many memories were made, feeling the weight of going our separate ways and savouring the last moments of normalcy. One of us suggested that we go around the circle brainstorming/imagining each others’ futures–where would so-and-so be in 10 years time? For some, we could unanimously envision specific accomplishments and lifestyles. Other futures provoked theory and debate, or teasing and banter.
My future? It drew blanks.
And so we arrive at the our final hurrah before we go back to Canada and real life (aka unemployment) begins.
In late June, my trip began with a 1 day layover in Iceland. Back then, the sun did not set.
Early September, our trip ended with a 3 day layover in Iceland. At that point, the nights were just long enough for potential aurora sightings. This leg of my trip is the focus of this post.
Iceland–a significant place in its own right–will also forever be personally significant to me for bookending this season of my life. I would like to think my second time here was different from the first, that I left that side of the Atlantic a changed person… I mean, that’s the kind of outcome and introspection that makes good blog material. But in reality, I think this layover was different from the first not because I’ve changed/grown/crossed-thresholds/seen things, but moreso because I am coming under different circumstances; I envy people who can be so sure otherwise.
My parents wanted to piggy back on my whole post-conference kerfuffle and met us in Olso after the WWOOFing leg of our trip.
If it were up to my parents, they would have signed up for a Chinese Bus Tour to sight-see some bus-accessible, ultra-touristy “Natural Wonders”. If it were up to me, well, you know what I’d be up to. The thing is, my parents travel exclusively by Chinese Bus Tourism. Meanwhile, I would throw myself into a fjord if I had to go on one more Chinese Bus Tour in my life (even if they were taking me to the parts of Scandinavia with “Natural Wonders”).
The only way we can reconcile this conundrum is for me to plan the trip and for them to follow along as if I were their amateur Chinese Bus Tour Guide.