When all the noise fades away

Friends. Coffee. Sunshine. Work. Good news. The past three days have simply been good. And that is something I haven't been able to say as frequently as I would like lately, so it has been extra delightful for all of the noise in my life to fade away for a bit so that I could just enjoy myself.

Give Me Fog

If I had to pick a favourite weather-related phenomenon, it would probably be fog. I think it is simply gorgeous. Every time I come across it I feel as if my heart and soul are deeply satisfied. There are very few weather patterns that do this for me. I am not one of those people who always wants sunshine and heat, I only enjoy snow for brief periods of time, biting cold is only okay when I can curl up inside with friends or a book, rain is wonderful until I have to walk a long way...but fog, fog and I are always friends. Sure, it wreaks havoc with my hair, but I love it anyway. I love the mystery of it. I love the comfort of it. I love the staggering beauty of it.

When I left the pub last night the entire town was blanketed in fog. It was beautiful, and I wished with everything in me that I had my camera with me. Since I didn't, I just walked home as slowly as possible, enjoying every second of it.

Wonder temporarily overpowering the mind

astonishment, n.
4. Mental disturbance or excitement due to the sudden presentation of anything unlooked for or unaccountable; wonder temporarily overpowering the mind; amazement.

I've been finding myself astonished quite frequently lately. Here are some of the (good) things that have been provoking this sensation:

The friends I've made out here. They are some incredible people.

The fact that it has already been 8 months since I've moved. Crazy!

The small, simple moments of beauty that are everywhere.

Our hearts torn between places

Walking was not fast enough, so we ran. Running was not fast enough, so we galloped. Galloping was not fast enough, so we sailed. Sailing was not fast enough, so we rolled merrily along on long metal tracks. Long metal tracks were not fast enough, so we drove. Driving was not fast enough, so we flew.

Flying isn't fast enough, not fast enough for us. We want to get there faster. Get where? Wherever we are not. But a human soul can only go as fast as a man can walk, they used to say. In that case, where are all the souls? Left behind. They wander here and there, slowly, dim lights flickering in the marshes at night, looking for us. But they're not nearly fast enough, not for us, we're way ahead of them, they'll never catch up. That's why we can go so fast: our souls don't weigh us down.

-- Margaret Atwood (Found courtesy of a dear friend.)

I write to Gabby about how I wish I could just take everyone I love with me wherever I go, and how it feels like my heart is scattered across the country. She writes back with words of understanding and wisdom: "I know the feelings that are torn between place and people though...if I could pile up all the ones I love and cart them away to my farm in Ontario, I'd be in Heaven on earth. The very idea of it almost hurts it would be so fantastic. But I will stay here, you will stay in Nova Scotia (for the time being, at least!), and my family will stay in Ontario, and we will continue to feel our hearts torn between places. Because that is the path that we have chosen, and one of the burdens we must bear."

I find myself missing Montreal. I find myself missing Wolfville when I'm not here. I find myself missing Alberta. I find myself missing Toronto, and Paris, and Dublin, and London. Sometimes I find myself missing places I have never been.

I constantly want to be somewhere else. Yet, I constantly want to be exactly where I am. I constantly miss people. Yet, I wouldn't want to leave the people I have here in order to be back with the people I have left.

I wonder what all this torn-ness is doing to my heart, to my soul.

Stuck on You

Tonight I sat in one of the local pubs with a lovely person who is rapidly becoming one of my dearest friends out here. There was live music and good wine and delightful, meandering conversation. At some point our conversation turned to the future, to leaving Wolfville, and to the discomfort we both feel with that idea. This town is wonderful in so many ways. Of course it has it's problems. It's a small town. You run into people you would rather not see. Everybody knows everybody else's business. There's a lot of chatter, some of which is simply gossip. But it's also beautiful here. We talked about how this is the first point in our lives where when something goes horribly wrong our first instinct isn't to long to be back with our parents. There are places here that feel like home. I can go out. I can meet up with a friend. Basically, the things that would have made me feel like my world was ending only a year ago are now painful, but somehow more manageable. Thinking about leaving is unpleasant. This is a strange town though. Almost everyone here is in transition. None of this is permanent. Yes, there are people who actually live here, but for the most part people's time here comes with an expiry date. In some ways this impermanence is what allows for such a wonderful atmosphere here. Consequences are diminished somehow. But if the loveliness of living here is predicated on this transitory nature, then one can also outstay one's welcome. So staying sometimes seems impractical. How will the experience of the town change once all of my friends have left? We didn't really come to any conclusion, other than my feeble suggestion that perhaps we have reached a point in our lives where every decision we make means passing on something potentially wonderful. When I was trying to decide where to take my master's a very wise friend told me about her experience and said that no matter what decision I made I was always going to be missing out on something, but if I made a good decision then while I might wonder what would have happened if I'd chosen differently, I wouldn't be able to picture it any other way. I feel like this has become the case for every decision in my life. I just hope that I can continue to choose wisely, because right now I couldn't picture my life any other way.

Tell me a story, dear

from "Tuscan Cypress" in An Italian Garden
A. Mary F. Robinson

XI
Tell me a story, dear, that is not true.
Strange as a vision, full of splendid things;
Here will I lie and dream it is not you,
and dream it is a mocking bird that sings.

For if I find your voice in any part.
Even the sound of it will break my heart;
For if you speak of us and of our love,
I faint and die to feel the thrill thereof.

XVI
Come away Sorrow, Sorrow come away -
Let us go sit in some cool, shadowy place;
There shall you sing and hush me all the day,
While I will dream about my lover's face

Hush me, O Sorrow, like a babe to sleep.
Then close the lids above mine eyes that weep;
Rock me, O Sorrow, like a babe in pain,
Nor, when I slumber, wake me up again.


There is always that one class that you struggle to engage with. The one that you have to drag yourself to. The one that you put off doing the work for because it doesn't interest you at all. That class for me this semester is Victorian Lit. I was excited for the class. I love Victorian novels, and the last time I took a Victorian Lit class it was rather enjoyable. But the works we are studying are failing to engage me and the approach of the class does nothing but frustrate me. I once had a wise professor tell me that the key in each class is to find something that you love, something that fascinates you, and to focus as much energy into that as you can. Well until tonight all my efforts to do this in Victorian had been for naught. And then I read A. Mary F. Robinson. I think I found my in. Her works aren't particularly happy - in fact they are characterized by the horrors of the world and marked by a deep sorrow - but my favourite poets almost always have this. I love the opening lines of poem XI. So, tell me a story, dear.

New New New

Thousand Ways
The Tallest Man on Earth

Oh, I have lived for ages
I'm a thousand turns of tides
I'm a thousand wakes of springtime
And a thousand infant cries
Oh, a thousand infant cries

I got sixteen hundred tigers now
All tied to silver strings
When they're put out in the pasture
Oh, the mighty heart will sing
Oh, the mighty heart will sing

But I'll always be blamed for the sun going down with a sigh
But I'm the light in the middle of every man's fog

I bend my arrows now in circles
And I shoot around the hill
If I don't get you in the morning
By the evening I sure will
By the evening I sure will

Because I'm the fire on the mountain
You have lit up in your dreams
But also water on the fountain
You could send myself on me
You could send myself on me

But I'll always be blamed for the sun going down with a sigh
But I'm the light in the middle of every man's fog

And, no, I never meant to say these words
But, yes, you ought to know
That the dark in what I've always been
It will not ever go
No, it will not ever go

So if I've lived a thousand years
A thousand turns of tides
Just a thousand leaves in autumn
And a thousand ways to try
Oh, a thousand
It's just a thousand
Ways to try


I felt like some new music tonight. I wanted something with a bit of an edge to it, but still soothing and calming. And then I remembered that a while back one of my friends posted a video of an artist that I had really enjoyed. So, I went off hunting through friends' blogs and, voilà, I had found The Tallest Man on Earth. I am in love with his voice. It has this beautiful raspy quality that is awesome. There is something about the musicality of the songs combined with his voice that is really working for me right now. It reminds me of my favourite kind of beaches, the kind that are in abundance out here on the east coast: rocky and with the promise of danger if a storm blew in.

Somehow finding new music just seemed to suit my day, which was full of new things. I went and registered at Acadia, so I am officially a new student. I met one of my fellow English grad students (there are only three of us total) and I had dinner with a couple who are friends of a friend, so I was meeting new people. Somehow it seemed fitting that I would come home and find some new music.

Sometimes...

Sometimes the smallest thing can turn your day around and put a smile on your face.

Delicate Beauty

I don't really have that much to say lately. Well, that's not true. I've been talking and thinking through some stuff, but I feel like somehow it isn't formulated enough for me to write about on here. So, instead I bring you a pretty picture. I like the tiny delicacy of the rose bud contrasted with the solidity of the boulder. I also really like the colours in this. The yellow of the rose is so interesting, saturated yellow that fades into the faintest hint of colour at the tips of the petals.

Balancing Act

Just in case several of my recent posts (such as this or this) haven't tipped you off, I am here to tell you that I am deep into end of semester insanity. The kind where hysterics are a daily event (whether these are of the laughing or crying variety depends on the day). The kind where sleep has become a thing fondly remembered but rarely experienced. The kind where every so often as you are walking along you are hit with a massive wave of panic. The kind where your desk is so buried under papers and books that you aren't actually sure what it looks like anymore. The kind where this disastrous state of your desk accurately reflects your mental state. This state of affairs is not helped by the fact that this year I am attempting to balance school and work. While I need the job and actually don't mind it, there are many days when I wish I could quit just to save my sanity. I am not good at balancing school and work. I figured this out in second year and it is why I didn't work in third year. I knew it was going to be tricky this year, but I had hoped I wouldn't hit this point in the year and feel like I was going insane. Sadly, this is not the case. Most days I feel like one of those plate spinners desperately trying not to let anything fall. I have taken to only focusing on one thing at a time. If I look at my to do list I get some serious waves of sheer panic. Despite all of this I am doing remarkably well though. So don't freak out. Trust me, I am doing more than enough of that on my own. I don't need any help.

I took this picture in Jasper a couple of years ago. We were walking along a trail around a lake and all of a sudden this little structure appeared as we rounded a corner. Someone must have waded out and made it. I liked how it looked with the lone stone perched atop of the pile seeming to float above the water. This is actually how I feel right now. Yeah, my life is an insane balancing act, and most days I feel like I'm losing it, but there is something grounding me and keeping me from completely falling apart. It's hidden beneath the surface of my crazy life, but it is keeping me from sinking under the insanity.

Moments of Brightness

Let's face it, this week has not been that great for me. Between being sick (which I am still fighting off the spin off ramifications of that flu) and not yet having a job and discovering that very few of my clothes actually fit me any more (and yet, due to the job situation, I lack funds to replace said clothes), this simply has not been one of the best weeks ever. However, there have been bright spots. I saw a fantastic play on Sunday night. The Citadel does a Shakespeare play every season and this year it was As You Like It. The best live production of Shakespeare I have ever been to (and I can think of 11 productions that I have been to so this isn't a "it's the best I've been to" but I've actually only been to two). I got my marks back and did waaaaaaaaaaay better than I was expecting to. I had a major photography project that I finally wrapped up get good (dare I say rave?) reviews so far. I'll share that with you some time in the next couple days. I read A Little Princess and watched The Young Victoria. So, even amongst the disgusting week there have still been bright spots.

This picture seemed to capture that sentiment nicely. I love the bright pops of orange flowers against the grey rocky background and in amongst the dry, dead twigs. This was taken in Victoria last summer. Just along the side of a parking lot. I made my family stop while I took pictures. Man, I must be annoying to travel with...