Tuesday, August 16, 2005
this is my heart.
I like to look at the crushes I get as manifestations of heart opening
every opening leading me towards the one that deserves a heart such as this.
but i must confess
having crushes gets tedious after a while.
being a leo i need boldness
but we are all self indulgent
sometimes i just want someone to step out of their bubble and risk a little for me
perhaps one day i'll understand all this heart opening
and i'll hope it doesn't slam shut when one day comes
One day I will love myself and another in the way we are all deserving of.
Monday, August 15, 2005
In 13 days I am moving away from this city.
I've been here for 5 years.
It feels strange because everything around me feels like home. I am truly blessed by the friends I have made in victoria. I have watched friends go through transitions, both physically and emotionally. I have watched everyone hook up, breakup, make up. I have had love here, I have had wonderful solitude. I have lost and rediscovered here. But sometimes comfort isn't enough to make you stay.
Victoria and I are like one of those relationships though, that you have been in for a long time, to the point that you are just comfortable, not necessarily in love anymore, but truly enjoy going through the daily patterns. But I need more than that. I don't know if vancouver will provide that re-invigorated love, but I know this for sure.
I am making this change for Me.
I can't stay here because it is lovely. It may make me miss it more. I am not running away. Not in the least. and that feels good. I often put others needs before mine and I have been working on taking steps to change this over the past few years, little did I know it would lead me to such a big one.
I was at a gathering tonight with people I have known for years, making new connections. Seeing lovelies that I wish I knew better. It was getting late and my ciders were treating me nicely. I walked away and looked back at the circle of punks, hippies, bois, and crazies I call my kin and understood why it is okay for me to leave them, tonight and in 13 days.
Cause I get to leave while the night is still young but late enough to know the reasons to leave.
Blow this city a kiss and walk away while everything still tastes sweet.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
I found my rings! They had been missing for about a year and half now, and I had resigned myself to the fact that they were gone. I'd searched every pocket of every jacket and bag, asked anyone at who's home I may have removed them to play guitar, with no luck. These aren't ordinary rings either, to me at least. They are all traditional lativan jewlery, two of them made by a man in toronto at the store Kalupe, the third inherited. I have great pride and intruige in my latvain heritage and these although these rings are only material objects, they felt like a reminder and a link to my cultural roots.
This morning as I was packing/organizing my craft supplies I came across a little black velvet bag. I intuitively knew they were in there, as I had thought I must have put them somewhere logical, and then lost the logical object in which they were stored. I peeked in the small bag and confirmed their presence, crying, immediately diving towards the phone to call my mother. She too had lost all her precious latvian jewelery at one point and found it again years later. I loved to hear that she too had immediately called her mother when she found it.
My fingers have been bare for a year and a half. It made me sad to where anything anything else on them. It feels really intense to have them back on my hands. They are charged rings, even after resting in a small velvet bag for that long. The matriarchy of my latvian roots is a strong part of my identity. My anscestor Aspasija, the first feminist lativan poet, feels like a kindred spirit to me. My Gaggy (great-grandmother) was a brilliant storyteller, amazing cook, strong woman. My Grammy Ellen, her magic with her hands in the earth growing flowers, organic food, loving of peacefullness and animals, living the sustainable lifestyle I hope to one day. My beloved mother, Christine, funky mama, creative spirit, poet on her healing journey. And here I stand, a little bit of the feminist, the storyteller, the peaceful gardener, the spiritual creative one. All in the notches and braids, amber and silver, returned to my fingers where they feel like they were meant to be.