It's funny, but when everyone told you that being courageous is the only way to live, they didn't mention that it is often very difficult to continue being courageous and not to give up. But, although it's hard, it's very satisfying, and scary, and encouraging, and threatening. To yourself and to other people.
But it's worth it. And the hardest part, after years of not doing it, is being courageous enough to stand up for yourself.
"Courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow."" - Anon.
Let us all try again.
April 18, 2005
The white can be a soft warmish covering, or glaring piercing brilliance.
The grey is smoke curling out of chimneys, tree bark, salt dust.
The beige is slush, tracked into the house by happy or unhappy boots.
The sun came out today, and I walked for two hours through the sweet fallen leaf smell, breeze crisp in the shade, sunglasses required in the bright autumn sun. My friend and I sat on swings and talked, I kicked the sand and made shoeprints, then scuffed them out. We talked about where we wanted to live, and where we might be able to afford to live. Did you know that people from Southern Ontario are flocking up to Sudbury to buy waterfront property? Apparently there isn't any left in Muskoka.
It was a lovely day. I'm glad I experienced it.
October 21, 2005
So, Tony won the championship. I'm thrilled to see him so happy. I barely had the energy yesterday to throw my arms up and cheer when he crossed the start-finish line. It looked like I wasn't paying attention, but I was. I usually am unless I'm thinking or reading.
Cheers, Tony, for a safe race, a great season, and a new attitude that has gained the respect of everyone. To the new Champion!
November 21, 2005
I'm coming up to an anniversary which I haven't seen for many years. Very soon it will be a full year that I have been single, and not dating. I have to say that this year has gone by fast. I'm planning a romantic dinner for myself this Sunday night. The phone might even be off the hook, and I'll likely draw myself a bubble bath.
Other than that, I feel that a lot of people have a certain idea about who I am, and they are disappointed when I rebel/reject this image. It's not that your image of me is objectionable, it's just not me. Instead of developing an idea of who I am, why not find out? Spend time with me with an accepting attitude and realize that I am a flawed person with some issues, but that, like everyone else in the stupid world, I'm trying to get through it. Yes, I am a coward, I am opinionated, I am brave and I am openminded. I am soft spoken, I shout, I'm patient and impatient. I think about things scientifically, using my extensive training to evaluate real life situations involving health, diet, exercise, stress, global climate change, environmentalism, etc. and therefore develop strong opinions about some things and it frustrates me that instead of taking my word on something, people will look to People magazine or some other non-scientific, obviously biased, trying-to-maintain-this-culture-of-deprivation-and-poor-self-image-and-selling-something source and say that no, I'm wrong.
I'm NOT wrong.
They are wrong, just like every other fad. Removing from your diet key elements of nutrition that your body needs, scientifically proven key elements of nutrition, is not a sustainable or healthy way to live. Just my two cents about why I sneer every time someone tries to excitedly tell me about the newest "proven" diet and I say, thanks, I'll stick with my vegetarianism and yoga, both of which have a much longer trial period than the Atkins diet.
I listen to punk, dress in black, sing jazz music and dress classically when the need arises. This need is arising now and I will dress in such a way that is appropriate for an office setting. Please don't patronize me. I'm old anough now that you can treat me as an adult, not a kid. You say, then act like one. I am. I take your comments, your attacks and I take them, quietly. Hurt, angry, but quiet. I think the last time I fought back, I was 16. After that, I stopped, consciously. I stopped.
I like body decoration. I do. I think it is a valid method of self expression, and that it can be beautiful when done right and with some degree of consideration. I'm not talking about Bugs Bunny on a butt cheek. I'm talking about thinking about it for a long long time and deciding that this is something that is appropriate for the expression of this idea of beauty, this idea of spirituality.
And of course I think I'm right. Just like you think you're right. And we are all right. And we are all wrong. And it doesn't matter, in the end. The thing that matters is that we all love each other and try not to hurt each other too terribly by pulling out the cheap shots and the dirty tricks and the words that we know will get everyone riled. And it also means watching our tone. Because the tone of voice used for speaking can be the most damaging thing. Even if the words are not, the tone used can be the thing that sets us off.
I think I am a lucky person. I am surrounded by so many people that I care about, have great relationship with, and that I've been able to use as a wonderful support network while I've gone through an exceedingly difficult time. And I appreciate it. I just want to explain where I am right now, who I am and that I'm doing okay. I have things that consistently annoy me, but overall I'm happy and single and doing things that are interesting and fun.
And Happy Anniversary to me.
Friday January 13th, 2006
So she steadfastly turned her key in the lock and trudged out into the bitter cold and the bright light she was no longer used to, squinting and flinching. She was adamant and would not let the bright sun chase her back inside. She put on shaded glasses and continued. The sidewalk glinted conspiratorially and she knew it was trying to trip her up, so she walked very firmly on it, not letting it slide her boots the wrong way. She breathed in the fresh air, and it bit at her nose. But she would not be swayed, knowing that she could always go back inside after she had seen some more of the outside. She walked, and the robots flashed red at her at every turn, slowing her progress, trying to encourage her to simply turn around because they would not let her forge ahead. But she waited patiently and was finally able to continue on her way when the robots were forced to continue on to their cycle of green. She walked with no particular destination in mind, you see, so the impediments thrown at her were useless, because she was not in a hurry to go anywhere. She was just exploring.
Finally, she came to a bridge over a river. The river gurgled happily under a coating of ice, and she watched as water birds splashed in the cold water. She wondered if that was choice, because they liked the cold water, or necessity, because they couldn't get something they needed from outside of the water.
"Mrs Duck," she asked the laughing duck, "Why do you splash in the cold water when you could sit on dry land and warm your feet with the down of your belly and not have to endure the coldness of the water?"
The duck turned a calculating eye on her and replied, "You know the answer to that quesiton already, Ms Human, or you would not be here right now. I splash in the cold water because I need to. If I sat all day on shore, I would not know if my feet were warm or cold, because there wouldn't be a difference. I also need to leave the shore to drink the water and eat the seaweed that grows in the stream. I cannot spend all my life in one spot, because I would not have different experiences to tell me what I liked and what I don't."
The girl pondered for a moment, then said, "You are right. I did know that answer, otherwise I would not have left my house today. I guess everything needs to change the situation they are in sometimes, to be able to appreciate the comfort they have."
The duck chuckled and swam away looking for seaweed, and the girl decided that she would go for another walk tomorrow.
January 17th, 2006
said you
then do
art
and compose
hard this
as
passion
demands
paintdrug
and
proseecstasy
- J. Gibson '06
If I taste not thy mouth?
And what good touch,
If I caress not thy skin?
What good sight,
If I gaze not on thy face?
And what good smell,
If I breathe not thy scent?
What good hearing,
If I listen not to thy voice?
And what good limbs,
If I embrace not thy body?
What good life,
If I live not in thy presence?
And what good love,
If I love not thee?
- "None"
January 30, 2006
-J. Gibson
I never knew
I had this love
Inside, so deep inside.
But now, stripped bare,
It's boiling out,
It's hard, so hard to hide.
And you're so far away,
I don't know if it's real,
Or fantasies built up by me
To be something to feel.
But deep truth and valiant love
Consumes a doubting heart,
The fire flames up without a touch
Although we are apart.
Poetry flows, these odes to you,
Oh, hateful romantic mush,
End with moaned words of love,
To empty, echoing hush.
You are my sun
And everything
Both with and without fault.
I wish I was
Your moon, your stars,
Your darkness, you, my light.
"I wish"
- J. Gibson '06
I'm learning again about my emotions. After spending so long away from people, being only with myself, locked in my apartment and working on my thesis, I'm having to relearn my interpersonal relationship skills and how to manage my emotions. I'm also learning how not to get caught in flights of fancy and live in the real world again. It is really difficult, because I have been living in my fantasy world so often. I'm working on it.
Happy almost summer. I'm still writing poetry, with select pieces being posted. Enjoy!
June 3rd, 2006
Kisses fill my mouth like jewels,
they threaten to fall
when I open my lips to speak.
I'm tempted to give them
to other boys
because you're not here
to taste them.
I try to swallow them down,
but they hurt.
So I send them on the breeze
to travel to where you are
and trust they will land safely
where they belong.
Jewel Kisses
March 17/06
- J. Gibson
The Two Minds
Today I find
I'm of two minds.
The first,
I yearn for love.
Comfort, a home,
babies to bundle,
garden to grow,
blankets and buttons,
giggles and games,
strong hands to hold me,
strong heart to love me,
family in the car,
report card time,
the struggles, the milestones,
domesticity.
The second,
I yearn for life.
Adventure, to see
strange shores and skies,
foreign tongues to speak,
ruins to ramble,
history and holy sites,
my travels to excite me,
my journeys to fulfill me,
stay days in one country,
gone months at a time,
the stories, the miles,
independence.
-J. Gibson '06
Is that too much to ask?
The fire seems stoked again, this time for a man. One with a sprinkle of gray, with a laugh that I can hear across the room and smile at. A man with a voice that I just want to listen to, who I'm awkward around. One who makes me smile all day with one sidelong check-glance and a smile. One with broad shoulders and strong hands - who I have been blatantly checking out, with blatant return looks. And smiles. And blushing.
Ah, les papillons July 1, 2006
how I wish and wish
and then
I wish no more
then wish again
ever changing
fleeting glance
can have me down
without a chance
and then I long
for one man's touch
thinking that
I long too much
my mind is filled
with lover's grace
but myriad is
my lover's face
then the cycle
starts anew
and I know not yet
what to do
so I wish and wish
and then
I wish no more
then wish again
-J. Gibson
May 25, 2006
posted July 1, 2006
What happened, you might ask? I was innocently keeping a friend company while she waited for a bus. In doing so, we noticed someone walk by whom we both classified as belonging to the same spiritual leanings as ourselves. There was more, however. I faintly recognized him. Thus the seed was sown. Her bus arrived and she left and I turned to walk home. But this seed was fast to grow and I would only make it half a block before the instinct to return made me bravely think, "Well, if it isn't him, what does it matter? And if it is him, then, well, I will have met him."
Thus I returned, and as the Fates would have it, he was still at the bus stop. So I timidly approached, quietly asking if he was who I thought he was. And, in the awe-full ways of coincidences or something deeper, he was indeed. And that was mutually amazing. Then we went to a local pub and chatted so completely naturally (with some shy moments and losses of words) for two and a half hours that we arranged a date for two days later. The date would further reaffirm the comfort, the familiarity, the trust, the utter not-strangeness of our knowing each other and being together. This, too, was amazing. We met at the end of a period of him being in Ottawa, but already we plan to visit each other very often. He fills me with wonder, with laughter, with music, with energy, with joy.
I continue to thank the gods for yelling at me to go back.
I am so glad I turned around.
September 3rd, 2006
It's unfortunate to speed through a season, though. People spend too much time centred on the negative aspects of the seasons and don't spend enough time simply enjoying the progression - from warm summer to cold winter, watching everything start to shut down and become dormant. I was recently pondering my strong desire to cook almost every meal with mushrooms and root vegetables, but it is the season for those and consciously or subconsciously, that is what my body is expecting.
I walked home last night from work. It was perhaps unseasonably mild, slightly hazy actually, from the increased humidity in the air. I left work at 4 o'clock, meaning that the sun was beginning to go down. By the time I reached the bridge over the Ottawa River, the sun was hidden behind the Museum of Civilization and the sky had taken on the bright pastel colours of the sun just making the horizon. The river's character the past week has been smooth and glassy, not choppy, like it's going through upwelling right now (which makes sense - spring and fall are the mixing seasons in lakes). When I made landfall in Ontario, I stepped up onto the platform at the end of the bridge to take in the panorama of the upstream river. The glassy river reflected the bright pastels of the sky, making itself pink and light blue and greenish. Where there was turbulence on the surface, it took on a slightly darker blue tone. It was marvellous. It looked as though one could dip their cup into the river and come out with Alice in Wonderland tea. The islands and banks to either side of the bright river were dark in shadow, shaded already from the setting sun. I wandered down past the sumacs, once brilliantly blazing red feathers now hanging, faded, clinging to the branches until the wind strips them away. The late blooming roses bloom no more, but the path is scented with dead leaf sweet. I arrived at my willow tree at the river bank and she, too, is almost leafless and sleepy. I sat on the rocks beside her trunk, one hand resting on her thick bark and the other hugging my knees as I watched the sunset turn to dusk. I was surprised to hear the clocktower chime a quarter hour and that made me decide to stay for another fifteen minutes to hear the 5 o'clock bells. The canal has been drained and I realized that the bells had been muted all summer by the white noise of the waterfall over the end of the gate. As I sat there in quiet contemplation, listening to the semi-silence (as good as I can get around here), unfortunately my riverside companion, a fellow I believed to be meditating quietly, decided to begin to play harmonica - an instrument I have no love for. For a little while, I imagined that I was on the bayou in Louisiana, although the breeze began to chill as the sun receded further. By the time the 5 o'clock bells came, the fellow was still playing his harmonica and I wasn't able to hear the low tones of the five count. I left hurriedly, annoyed, after that and he abruptly stopped playing. I stopped by a produce store to buy mushrooms for my dinner and stopped by a natural food store for some vegetarian protein products. I was considering going to a nearby sushi restaurant instead of cooking since I was very hungry and tired, but as soon as I stepped out the door, I turned east to see the moon rising. Beautiful, orange, low and large, hanging in the sky over the route I needed to take to return home, how could I not obey? I followed her home instead, made my dinner and thought about my walk home.
Enjoy the autumn, what's left of it. It's chill, damp, grey and dreary, frosty, but still surprising.
November 7th, 2006
Beware the barrenness of a busy life. ~ Socrates
Sometimes it really is necessary to withdraw, see no one, be quiet and regroup oneself.
I have been socializing far too much lately, at least that's according to the bags under my eyes, the breakdown of my immune system and the facility with which I am able to drop into a snooze at inopportune moments, such as when riding the city bus to and from work or while at work reading reports. I'm still not certain whether I'm fortunate or unfortunate that caffeine seems to hold no sway over this. Certainly it means my moderate consumption of coffee should not disrupt my nightly slumber. However, it also means that I don't benefit from its purported awakening or reviving effects when it's required. Although I will say that, unfortunately, I am apt to become jittery and experience other side-effects from the over-consumption of coffee. At any rate, the main reason I drink coffee is that I enjoy the taste and smell of it.
Therefore, as an alternative to constant socializing, for the past week, including this weekend, I said no. Last weekend, I said no to cooking. I ordered gourmet pizza from my favourite pizzeria, Pavarazzi's. I checked email and wrote only one. This week has consisted of go to work, work, go home from work, eat, sleep. The only exception was Tuesday night for vocal lessons. No going out at night. I said no to fast food and made two big soups this week, Finnish Vegetable Soup last Sunday and homemade Cream of Tomato Soup on Wednesday night. One exception, Monday night on my way home from work, I stopped at my favourite Thai restaurant, Bangkok Thai Garden, and had my usual - Tom Yum Pak, vegetarian spring rolls and red curry tofu with vegetables over steamed rice, but that was because I was entirely exhausted and feeling sick with a cold (hence breakdown of immune system). Red curry always helps with a cold.
I enjoy socializing with friends, but I truly do need my time alone. These are things that I have to remember, but it's easy to get caught up in the vortex of socializing evenings.
So here's to quietness. Ssshhh...
February 4th, 2007
Take breakfast, lunch and tea,
The morning love and evening sighs,
If you would stay with me.
Now count two more, in both my arms,
To hold you and caress,
To fan your flame and balm your harms,
They cannot count for less.
Then count my eyes, my lips, my voice,
Those ways I show you love;
For you will always have a choice
But I have you, my dove.
At last, to add those little things
And finalize the score;
Count my heart and all my being
To make the numbers soar.
With these few additions done,
Add one final line;
Estimate my soul alone,
But it is just half mine.
I gave it to you long ago,
When, part-formed, we met as ghosts,
Ensured we would each other know
In our chosen hosts.
So you see, my darling heart,
Infinite reasons to stay.
Now if you will, with all your art,
Show me those to go away.
"Stay (and Tally)"
Summer '06- Feb '07
J. Gibson
you have meals you want to make them,
places you want to take them,
art you'd like to share,
gifts to show you care;
dances you want to dance,
and chances you want to chance;
embraces you need to give,
a joint life you long to live.
How do you tell them...?
how you lived your day
while they were far away;
that daily you earn your keep
while nights you often weep;
that part of you is lost,
and you find too dear the cost;
that deep inside you pine,
with masks to show you're fine.
And, yet you want to tell them...
while memories haunt your rest,
you still count yourself blessed,
by the stars far up above,
since, because of them, you know love.
The Absent One
January 2006
J. Gibson
In your burning eyes I see
A steely strength,
A bitter stubbornness,
A wall much too high for me.
You are not mine,
Nor were you meant to be.
But for a time we can dance.
You'll see it's not so hard
To trust someone again.
In your hurting eyes I see
A boy afraid,
A man wounded,
A crack in that edifice.
I am not yours,
Nor was I meant to be.
But for a time I can care.
I'll see it's not so treacherous
To trust someone again.
In your dark eyes I see
A subtle goodness,
A shadowy gentleness,
A hopeful glint of spring.
We will find ours,
Who they are meant to be.
But for a time we can talk.
We'll see it's not so terrible
To trust someone again.
Jan 29/07