Wednesday, May 13, 2015

In The Murky Waters of Transition

The view outside my balcony in my new Toronto place, with the sunshine peaking through downtown's forest of buildings, I hear a sparrow singing its heart out; he has a family under the rafters to protect.  There is life in every corner, even amongst concrete, I find fascinating and warms my heart.  

With transitions comes trying to grab onto anything that feels substantial/solid/trustworthy, where murky waters make visibility low.  You'd think that after a lifetime of moving and transitions that one would start getting used to the process; this isn't so, and the day I do I will be a lesser being.  The more meaning, connection, dedication, and loyalty you create, the harder the separation and longer the grieving process.  Last time I left Toronto, I not only left the city, but also a relationship of 5 years. Now I'm back in Toronto where I left the city and all that was; my ex now in a different country, both in a completely different place in our lives than before; new mindsets, perceptions, more scars, and notches on the belt buckle of life.  I am glad and proud of being on my own and having traversed the path I have chosen for myself; no regrets, but one not without struggles and a lot of heart ache.  That's the thing; the bigger the risks, and decisions, the greater the loss, consequences, the emotions and sensations that ripple.    

Where am I now?  What does Toronto mean to me, at this point in my life?  I sit here in a unit on the top floor of this older intimate building, where the ceiling height makes me feel a bit small, but I've designed the interiors to have a cozy homey familiarity, with reused furniture from my old studio, with paint splatters all over, and that I had replaced with smooth natural stone handles (I only bought new bookshelves and a couch as the ones I did own lasted way beyond their investment; over ten years of early IKEA furniture, YUP, FOR SURE!); but like my works of art, my space is full of texture, layers, and so much meaning in every piece/object.  There is a reason it is there, a story that goes along, with a special place in my memory and heart.  So yes, there is soul, wherever I go and whatever I touch.

Looking in on the present, and forward, I still can not shake those I miss, the pangs of sadness that remain in the moments of stillness, along with the beautiful sweet aftertaste, that is the gratitude someone/something/someplace worth missing exists.  

What do you have in store for me this time around Toronto?  I will make the most of it, in my own time, at my own pace, in my unconventional and unique ways.  I do appreciate all facets of life; ecstatic, good, bad, and/or downright ugly.  What a breadth of experience and adventure; curious of the countless possibilities.

As I returned from a meeting today, there sat a gurney and body bag; apparently someone on my floor passed away.  *Life* is happening all around, even in death.


Grateful, and contemplative, I. am. here.