Everything

I have felt all of this formed darkness about me— soft breath on hair, on an inhale, that feels far and familiar

I have heard that deep inhale, the one that has purpose & has silence & has no exhale, it holds everything in, but of course, it’s just air

But it is more. It is fragrance & life, it circulated in the blood & it swirls deeply within our innermost in—surely it can touch the soul, this strange exquisite inhale

It was the undertone. Or perhaps, undertow. Spring sat there inside the snow, waiting to melt, there, was the spring flood, the torrent, the smell of flowers, the surge of what was to come, the fullness of life—

It was an inhale, but it was everything.

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Sunday Afternoon Knits

Goal: To finish the pair by tomorrow evening so Kyra has them for Tuesday morning in the ministry.

This is a different pattern from the first two pairs, and I will be altering it for the next pair, the thumb gusset starts a little early in my opinion. Just will start it slightly higher by a couple rows. Otherwise, it knits up easier than the original pattern I was using.

It’s ridiculously cold these days but the sun is out and sets after 5pm now so it doesn’t feel quite so bleak, and also the snow! So much snow. It’s fresh and lovely. Driving is super not fun unless you have a 4×4 & winter tires. And that is why everyone owns at least one truck. If you don’t, chances are you and the ditch will get well acquainted these days. In the minus twenties that would not make for a good stay as you await a tow truck. Amazed how many bad drivers there are this year. Should be mandatory to learn winter driving techniques. First off, slow down. Second, slow down. Third, stay home. Fourth, slow down. Yes. Even the bozo in the Dodge Ram. Slow down or stay home. There is always poetic justice awaiting the ballsy driver who thinks he can do 110km on the Henday in this weather. Hopefully he doesn’t kill a fellow driver as he skids into the ditch. There is truly nothing better than driving by a ditched vehicle that flew past you just moments before, as if you were the idiot who didn’t know what you were doing going only 95km. Haha ha ha ha. Evil chuckles all the home.

As of Sunday—43 Years

So. Since I had solo selfie time this morning, I’m getting this out of the way. I’ve tried to take a selfie around my birthday since I turned forty. I’ve switched phones & lost pictures along the way, but this is my year of selfies in review, which suddenly popped up as an option to make and so I did. It’s kinda cheesy & I can’t seem to edit it properly. I’m technically challenged it seems.

So now I have slightly chopped hair and I actually don’t miss my long hair. I have started to work out for the first time ever, which feels great. I am noticing more wrinkles these days but still no grey that I’ve seen. And frankly, if I can get my body to a strong & healthy place, I couldn’t care less about wrinkles or grey.

I can’t believe I’ve been on this planet 43 years. Sometimes it feels like it should be more, sometimes I forget I’m that old now. Aging will always be a strange thing. Suddenly time has become a mystery of sorts. When I was young, ‘thirty years ago,’ seemed forever ago. Like say, in 1975 when I was born, the Second World War had ended, ‘thirty years ago.’ That was before my parents had even been born! Now, thirty years ago seems like the recent past in moments of nostalgia. 1988, well heck, I remember song lyrics somewhat easily from then. Twenty five years ago is very close feeling in my memory. And yet, forever ago. Time has become a very peculiar thing indeed, where at moments I can’t believe my oldest will be TWENTY this year! TWENTY!

Oh my. My youngest will be seven! This fills me with a rather soupy combination of anxiety & relief. Anxious that life has been stripped out of my bones as I formed these other beings and they too are aging. Relief, that they need me less and less, just as I begin to know, I will need them more and more—back to anxiousness. Life is full of quizzical ironies & fascinating conundrums.

Aging is more than the physical being.

I was assigned a talk last night, the Bible Study part, an invite to the meeting was to be included, and I was working on use visual aids. It went fine, but the school instructor, after commending me, proceeded to say, “as a kid you didn’t colour in the lines did you,” more as statement than question.

Nope. I didn’t. Actually. I did try to colour in the lines. But I don’t care too much for coloring books at all. I prefer blank paper. But, this reference to me as a child self—hahahaha. I forget most days I ever was one. I don’t think much on childhood anymore. I don’t miss it anymore. I don’t crave youth anymore. I am completely fine with middle age. Not the aching body part of it, but certainly the other parts are reasonably good.

I’m tired of being forced to feel I must be what I am not. I’m tired of failure. I’m happy to learn anything and everything I can. I fixate almost never on things said to me, about me, or what I’ve said to others. I mean, I try to be nice. I try to apologize when I should. But man, I’m tired of the gritty stuff. The stuff that I can’t fix or change or make better—nope, don’t care anymore. I love people. I give them the benefit of the doubt whenever possible, but I also am razor sharp at cutting them out of my life when & where I must for my own preservation. I’m becoming a swifter judge of character. I trust less. I have learned to trust my gut above anyone’s opinion. That’s hard. But, I’ve discovered, I’m so rarely wrong that it’s best I listen to my instincts & apologize later if I’m wrong.

I’ve stopped drinking morning coffee in favour of green tea. I’ve learned, I will never be good enough at guitar to worry about it, but to just play when I feel I want to. I’ve learned I can learn most anything reasonably well enough if I had all the time in the world, but, I don’t, so I need to focus on a few favourites and thoroughly enjoy them.

I like being a little ‘out there.’ I do not fit in and I’m so happy for this. I like just being that quirky woman that only a few know well. I like singing & dancing & exercise. I like painting & writing & I don’t read nearly as much as I should and I don’t care. I like cats better than dogs but in certain moments I love my dogs more than I ever loved a cat. I love my kids. Holy moly I love my kids. I don’t just love them, I like them. They are my favourite people to spend time with even tho I often need a break from them too. I love my husband, not unselfishly, he puts up with me & takes care of me & he makes me feel needed and secure, and I need him. We are reciprocal in each our own way. I love my mom & my stepdad like crazy, and they are crazy. I don’t need my dad. I never did. He was a biological truth. That, is not my fault. My brothers and their wives and kids are literally my own. I love them unconditionally. My in-laws on my husband’s side are mine too. They are coo-coo crazy coco puffs & this is what makes life full of fun & love & amazing. You get to explore a completely different way of everything via other people’s minds and moods. I actually miss all these people when we’ve been out of touch for a while, but make no mistake, distance will always make the heart fonder.

I have learned, I love the snow, but the cold I love a little less, and the dark, is not my friend. I love the sun, and summer—but heat, a little less. I love the ocean & the mountains & lakes & trees, sunset, but sunrise I love a little less. Everything is gradient & spirals & spherical in the most beautiful of ways. Pain is always pain. Love is always love. These things don’t fade they just age. Time is so strange to me these days. It truly is.

My Secret Pain Pills & Other Cheap Medicine for Winter

Tho we have had beautiful temps & little snow, there is still snow on the ground, precious little it is. But somehow Florida has had more snow than us in December & January, Here’s the article. Apparently we should get snow again soon, and frankly I hope so, brown winters are bleak.

I’ve managed to finish Sarah’s blanket, that was a long time coming.

It’s great when a project comes off the needles.

I discovered Thrum Mittens. They are adorable & Northern wearer approved. Each little heart (or polka dot if that’s preferred) is made with a twist of roving. This makes them thick and actually warm. I’ve never really wanted to knit mittens because frankly homemade knit mittens are pretty useless here, too thin to keep out the cold. But these are so squishy and the hand dyed Nova Scotia yarn & roving in Frozen Ocean is so so lovely. What is it about the peace, tranquility & satisfaction of creating, and with such lovely textures & colours, its such medicine for the soul. This pair is already picked by middlest child, but I’ve bought enough roving to make all us girls a pair. Second one is about a third done, so hopefully I’ll find time to finish it up tomorrow or Friday.

I’ve decided to take up, true exercise. Yep. Me. Lady who ‘hates’ the gym. I’ve pretty much been abandoning my lake walks because my hip was handling the cold so poorly but then, after consulting a chiropractor, I have been ‘prescribed’ exercise to pinpoint the root cause of the issue. Walking is all fine and well, but it wasn’t really fun when it was hurting so badly. So, Barre is what I’ve started. For anyone who doesn’t know, Barre is a good butt kicker for women—I’m sure men could do it, but the toe pointing & calf work may make some men uncomfortable, tho somewhat more Gene Kelly-esque. The Barre I’m in is a Fusion class. So it’s with weights (for the upper body, shoulders & arms) & using the bar basically as a stabilizer while you use your own body weight & gravity to work hip to arches. Ive never stood on the balls of my toes for so long since I was horsing about as a young girl. I’ve never shook so badly while working out. Quads. Hello! There you are! It felt great! But, after discovering I apparently love the feeling of my muscles being maxed out, I’ve decided to take one more as well and try actual weights, Barre has taught me my left side is so pathetic—really. I think motherhood has turned my body to a sad little ball of goo. So, “Iron Reps”—no idea really what this means. Me at the gym & in a fitness class is kind of like being dropped in Korea with no English-Korean dictionary. A good friend teaches both so that makes it easy. She is a mom of four so hey, if she can do it, so can I. I’ve been indoor walking/jogging which is much easier on the IT Band issue I was having, keeps it warmer and the track is more forgiving than concrete. I am tired of feeling old & tired. So. If this is what it takes, so be it. I want to be able to still sit & knit & read, but I want to sit without the break down and aging of it, so, exercise is a must I guess. Who knew I’d like it tho. Didn’t see that one coming.

Frankly, I’m looking forward to not feeling weak anymore. I’m looking forward to feeling like sitting straight isn’t a chore. That my legs are strong again. I hate feeling age kicking my butt. Hate. It. I knew I needed to, but the hip pain was making it so impossible seeming. I didn’t realize I wasn’t helping it by simply walking and that I actually needed to build my glutes & quads again. So squats are my new secret pain pill. Every time my hip starts flaring up, ten more squats. It helps instantly. That’s just crazy. Good chiropractors—can’t compare to a doctor on so many things.

In The Ruination of Reminiscence —2017

there, touched on the glass we slice open our hearts, not with the callous like finger tips but with the delicacy of the skin hidden, v-ed between our heart beats

how many glancing blows can we hold inside our eyes’ memories?

you’re just a syphon giving away kisses through a sieve & holding angel wings in the corners of your smile, what luxury this is, to touch such sweet heavenly murmurings with the tongue of your words — how hush this is

watching the light dance across the open cold sky, blackness that is deeper than all the blacks I’ve seen before, colour colder than I’ve felt inside my inner bones, yet, it is lovely

not lovely like the sun, or the blue sky, or the rushing sea, but lovely like a hurt can be —

snow settles exactly where the branch is thickest, where the wind can hold no more, something must be let go, something must be buried, something must be lost, something must glow, a hundred thousand sparkles cannot even begin to describe what rest on the edges of snow in the moonlight —ask me what I know of heaven on earth, tucked in those little places, silent & still

how lovely is the lonely of knowing beauty despite this blood bath of pain, hot & stoked & consuming, everything is burning

I could reminisce on this ruination, another x or more aptly, another stroke on the wall, counting off the torture that is, but what point is there anymore to this?

all I would hear is gunfire, & death, & hear the rhetoric & lies breathed with every breath —I’m a courtyard of murmurings of memories of what agony there is here, year after year

…and so, let me stop myself from recalling what is best left forgotten. Let me stop. Inside this silent night. Inside this darkness. Inside this sparkling cold. Beneath these lights. Where the snow has settled, just right. Where I watch Venus dancing, spinning in all her light —

how I hold this beauty, intense upon my throat just for its warmth, just to feel the sensation of life still zooming fast through my veins, love in all its strange horror lovely —

there is ruination beyond this place, here in this moment where I lay, clutching the future; letting go yesterday’s decay

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this clear sky of night blooms up over the frozen haze—memory encrusted in tomb-like silence

how often are the stars this clear, this bright, as if I could catch & melt one on my tongue

plume upon plume, feathered breath and an ache I’ve felt before

I turn my face back downward, I close the door…

Odd No Snow Spell

I am not a fan of the dark of winter. That is my biggest complaint besides forced air heating which seems to make everyone prone to every illness under the sun. They call it flu season but it seems when you leave the dry dark climate you are less likely to contract the flu to me.

So, tho the Oilers are being particularly painfully bad at hockey this season, this is part of the downtown as I picked up my hub from the game last night. So lovely. The city is attempting to start a winter light initiative where lights are not an “until New Years” thing but a winter long thing. It is too bright in the summer for patio lights to be well used here, so I’m sure we all want to have pretty lights up while it’s actually dark. Anyways. I’m not sure how that applies when you’re trying to avoid holiday traditions. Time will tell.

And, in other news, I cut about two feet of hair off. Maybe at some point I’ll take a selfie I like of the new shorter hair I wear, but for now I just don’t have one I like enough. But, I love the hair cut. Shortest my hair has been in nearly a decade. I haven’t dyed it in all that time either, but got talked into a hair gloss matched to my roots, meaning, it is now the colour it would be if it never saw the sun. I realize my hair bleaches quite significantly just from the sun. It is very dark brown. Weird. Anyways. It’s a welcomed change and I will try to take a picture I’m willing to post.

This year it is looking like we will be here for the full dark fury of winter, for the first time in a couple years. It is harder knowing there is no break from the darkness that I personally feel anyway, until April/May. That is how long it takes to recover from the lack of sunlight. It is so brutal. It is nearly 8am and pitch black outside. It is so exhausting. Sending kids to school in the dark is dreadful. The sunrise is just beginning as they leave. And it is pitch black by 5pm again with it feeling like dawn & dusk through the hours there is light. The sun is so low when it has risen it is blinding to drive most of the time. It feels painful because your body needs full light to survive, and it just doesn’t get it. We are in the heart of it now. Hibernation, beer, food & sleep, Netflix… that’s the whole of it. Tho, I’m not a big drinker I sometimes think it might help if I were. Until late spring, it is so hard to feel energetic. It is the hardest will power push to leave the house at all for me. Winter—it’s the dark that kills, not the cold, not the snow, this terrible thick darkness.

12072017

You will ask: what are the horrors of patriotism?

I watched as blood ran down the loosely lined streets—soft billows of hate still rising

each staking their claim, each proclaiming their repugnant holiness, sinew stuck between their teeth

how quaint, your holy city, filled with the corpses of each other, each the others enemy

how endearing & sweet, I can smell the refuse of Gehenna burning, the valley churning as you pillage for another body to burn

how holy. how holy.

what is holier than all the holy wars. what is more joyous than to wrap our gifts in guts—all pounded out & tenderized, a small slip of vein bowed up around the bomb.

Oh, how long is this war.

How often I’ve felt the bones beneath me, crunching, giving way to another layer of death.

Patriotism & religion. They sour my soul. They mark themselves as unholy despite their blood-lust claims.