Red Cedar
More apocalypse, less angst
Oh yay!
I just checked the weather forecast for Sunday (moving day), hoping to see it won’t be raining… and lo, rain is not predicted – but snow flurries are!
And I’m getting sick.
My timing… oy, my timing.
People from the past.
Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I was recently contacted by someone I haven’t heard from in at least 12 years. That would be my first “love” (aka, the first boy I ever slept with), who is now the proud papa of three young’uns and living back in the town where we both grew up. Like all past relationships, there was once weirdness, but the passage of time makes it irrelevant and I am all too happy to have the re-acquaintance. He always was one of the good ones (it was me who was the fuck up – no question about that), and the fact he is a dad makes perfect sense given the type of person he is (you should see the lego collection!)
So – there was some catching up to do – no small feat on my part as I have crammed a lot of weirdness, art, work and politics (not to mention relationships) into the past 12 years. I tried like hell to keep the bio limited, but still ended up with a few email screens of breathless prose involving both the straight (work) and the bent (and then a bunch of my friends got arrested) while bypassing all but the most notable of the achievements (a degree, an album, a pension plan etc.)
And you know, I’m not dismayed by my life so far. I think it’s been interesting, sometimes inspiring, often a bit mad, and always full of characters that make the funniest of drinking partners. I think also, I have saved for a rainy day, and accomplished things in the workplace no anarchist should ever aspire to (and in fact, I didn’t – but that’s just an example of work ethic derailing politics).
But still, I’ll tell you the over-riding feeling I had upon hitting the send button was that somehow I have failed where my ex has succeeded. To make a life with another person, and a family – something I’m not even sure that I want – I feel that I should want, and should be able to do like so many people seem able to. Is it just that the grass is greener? That despite having so much of what i need and want in my life, I still don’t have enough? Or perhaps it seems my choices have lead to difficult and complicated places, and the idea of being a homemaker seems appealing to me in the face of everything else….
I’m not sure why I should feel like I have failed at some basic human concept except I guess that I *have* failed to express my core species biology. At this point I don’t even know whether that is something I can, want to, or should change. I am awfully fond of my life just the way it is, though I guess there is always the sense (no matter what the situation) that it could be *more* or *different*. The question is, whether it’s what one really wants….
The Myth of La Gaitana
This sculpture in the city of Neiva, Huila Department of Colombia depicts the myth of La Gaitana. I have not been able to find an english version of the story anywhere online – This is the story as it was told to me on the banks of the River Magdalena this past July.
During the Spanish conquest of Colombia there was a woman whose son was a powerful chief in the area of Neiva. As part of the quest for power and resources one of the conquistadors – a man called Vasco – had this chief killed and the body quartered, so saddening the mother that she sought revenge. She is known now as La Gaitana – the woman who killed Vasco, first dragging him around by a poker through the bottom of his chin, then gouging his eyes, then dragging his body by horse until she tired of the torture and finally beheaded him. She had to flee the town afterwards and escaped from her pursuers by jumping into the headwaters of the Magdalena River where she disappeared for good. There have been many sightings of this powerful woman over the ensuing centuries – a symbol of the fight against the colonialism that ripped apart indigenous Colombia still celebrated today.
Reading thank-you.
Thanks to haymarketeer and diane who both steered me towards Murakami in a previous post on literature. I’m reading Kafka on the Shore right now and enjoying it immensely.
To be a bit crazy.
Got home yesterday afternoon, exhausted and dehydrated from the flight, and collapsed into a near-coma after the obligatory bath. I’m not sure why I was so wiped at the end of this trip, but it was extreme this time around. Perhaps it’s just the number of things weighing on me at the moment, not the least of which is moving in five days.
But Ottawa was productive for me in both work and union contexts, and I unexpectedly got two whole afternoons off. One of my meetings was canceled on Friday afternoon, which I substituted with wandering around the National Gallery before meeting friends for dinner – and on Sunday, my union bargaining group finished work early, which gave me extra date with Anna that we spent down at the market (lunch and book-shopping). It is pretty rare that I get any time off in Ottawa, and it’s not a bad place for things to see and do (as a tourist that is, I think living there might get a bit boring).
Besides the Group of Seven paintings which I spent a lot of time hanging about with, my favourite exhibition currently showing at the gallery was one imported from the museum of contemporary photography (shut at the moment for renovations) which combined oil painting and photographs to quite interesting effects. There was also a four-panel piece in the contemporary art section by Marianne Nicholson which engaged me – depicting the history of colonialism in BC in traditional and modern symbols. In any event, it was an excellent way to spend a rainy afternoon in the capital city and besides the security guards, I had many of the large halls to myself for long periods of time, a feeling I always enjoy in museums and galleries.
I’m struggling a bit lately with some really negative thought patterns that are encroaching on my ability to cope with the everyday. I’m not sure why now, except that I’m burnt out and not taking the best care of myself. I think also the approaching anniversary of Darren’s arrest and the nagging grief of the one-year mark since Joe disappeared are having their effects. Increasingly I am having anxiety attacks that seem to be related to this set of events, a deep fear in me realizing that there are people I will never see again. Delayed mourning? Survivor’s guilt? I don’t know. But I’m working with some cognitive exercises to try and reverse or at least quell the darkest corner of my mind before it actually starts to dismantle the generally good state I’ve got my life in.
I *am* very much looking forward to my move at the end of this weekend – not as a panacea – but definitely as a way to recoup time. The city seems very appealing to me at the moment – the energy, events and people – and in the short-term it feels very much like where I belong. I definitely have a sense that once I get the move completed, I can focus on getting myself stronger and taking care of other things. For those of you who actually know me in person, you will be receiving my new phone number and address soon.
It has been pointed out to me recently that I do have a lot going on at the moment, and to be a bit crazy is perfectly alright as long as I keep accessing my support network in the meantime. Thankfully, I have lots of practice with that 😉 . I do plan to spend the next few days with the tunes that make me happy cranked, and tunnel-vision to the goal of a smooth move on Sunday.
Red Cedar 