Deep Thinking

Perhaps it is because of all the papers I have been writing lately. Perhaps it is because I’ve started talking with people that I can have honest and meaningful conversations with. I’m not really sure of the reason, but the fact is that I have been thinking deeply lately. And thinking carefully. Contemplating would be a good word for it. I consider what I have to say before I say it. I find myself mulling over big topics: love, language, transformation, the nature of the self, theological issues, my faith, happiness, the importance of art…some of these are generated by classes I’m in and papers I am writing, but others stem from conversations. Sometimes I start in one place and end up somewhere completely different that is even deeper and more thoughtful than where I started. As much as I love this kind of thinking, I am finding that my brain is starting to feel like an overloaded wagon. I am trying to drag this wagon, which is storing all of my thoughts and ideas, which I need to take with me and hang onto, but it is getting too heavy. It’s slowing me down. I can’t keep up with class discussions. By the time I arrive at the place the conversation was, it has moved on and I am still falling behind. I carefully consider my responses. I know this is a good practice, but it means that conversations do not happen in the usual rapid-fire manner. Instead they are characterized by pauses and phrases that seemingly have no connection to what came before. Conversations don’t end. They keep popping up. A cavernous pause will cause a topic to be set down for a time, but then I pick it up again and start lobbing it around again. I’m not saying that these conversations haven’t been fantastic. They have been wonderful and edifying and have been peppered with insightful moments. I actually wish that all of my conversations could be like this.

Last night I realized just how much I have been thinking lately. I went to post a blog entry and suddenly thought to myself “I have nothing to say.” This morning though, I realized that the point of this blog is to share my photography. Yes, it is also an outlet for my thoughts, profound or not, and I have been enjoying the process of writing on here immensely. But first and foremost this is a photography blog, so sometimes it is okay to just have a post about a photo. I don’t always have to have something profound, witty, or even interesting to go along with it. Sometimes a picture should just speak for itself. So here is a photo that I love. I think it is beautiful and dramatic. It makes me smile, but it isn’t overly sappy. It exudes a sense that if you stare at it long enough you might learn something, but that something will not be captured in my words here. So I hope this picture says something to you as well.

Black Rook in Rainy Weather

Black Rook in Rainy Weather
Sylvia Plath

On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possission of the most obtuse objects now and then -
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, runinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.


I often wonder what it says about me that I can almost always turn to Sylvia Plath for a poem that captures exactly what is going on in my heart and soul.

(Yes, I know this is not a picture of a rook. I have never seen a rook. This is probably a good thing because large birds terrify me. Actually this swan really freaks me out. I hate how their necks look. They remind me of snakes. Some strange cross between a bird and a snake. Wow. It suddenly dawned on me why I really hate swans.)

Hitting the Wall at One Thousand Miles Per Hour

I call my mom with good news and a question. I'm expecting a short conversation because I don't have time for anything else. I end up talking with her for half an hour. Venting about my stress over work. Trying really hard not to cry.

I stop at the school coffee shop to get a mug of tea on my way to the office to work on a paper. The girl working asks what I want. I reply, "A large..." and then there is a gaping pause. I am staring at the box of tea, which has the name of the tea printed in large letters on the front of it, but somehow am completely unable to read the name, translate it into something that means anything and then articulate that this is indeed what I want. I pause for a good 30 seconds before finally finishing my order with "...Cranberry Pomegranate tea." I wander away with mug in hand thinking that this is not a good sign for the rest of my day.

I am looking for a book on my desk. Searching every pile. Lifting papers. Only to realize that about five minutes ago I put it right in front of me. It's sitting there, open to the page I want. Somehow I wasn't aware of doing this though.

"Sometimes when I'm stressed it is like language stops having meaning. I look at words and they mean nothing. People talk to me and I can't understand them even though they are speaking English." This is how Bean responds when I tell her my coffee shop story. And this is exactly how I feel now. I'm trying to write a paper. I have an outline. I have an introduction. But it is like I no longer speak the language of academia. I stare at the screen, waiting for something to form some sort of meaning.

Part way through writing my paper I make up a word. I know there is a real word that means this, but I cannot think of it. I can't even think of a vaguely accurate word. I leave it and keep fighting my way forward. Every so often I look back at it, hoping that the real word will suddenly land on my consciousness. Instead every time I look at it I feel like I am losing even more of the English language. Even the conviction that there is an actual word that means what I'm trying to say has left.

I have officially hit the wall of stress at approximately 1000 mph. I knew it was coming. It was inevitable. I was moving too fast for there to never be a collision. But it sure is unpleasant.

The Dream I Didn't Know I Had

Have you ever opened your mouth and had a dream you didn't even know existed escape before you recognized it? I have. Just over a week ago I was having a conversation with some of my fellow English majors and said something off-hand in the middle of a conversation. Just one of those rapid-fire conversational moments. It has been haunting me ever since. Not haunting me like a regret. It's not that crazed bashing itself into the walls of my brain kind of haunting. It's more like this thought has just found a comfortable spot and is sitting there, waiting for me to visit it, to converse with it, to fall in love with it. And I have been doing just that. Slowly. Just briefly stopping by to say hello, ask it how it's doing. I am cautious when it comes to these things. Plus this little guy caught me off-guard. He just snuck right into the middle of a conversation, so I wasn't quite sure how seriously to take him. Today I had a really good conversation with Bean about it though, and somewhere in the course of this caution fell asleep and I fell in love. I'm still hesitant to talk about it with very many people. It's something that may never happen. It's something that, even if it does happen, will not be for years and years. My trepidation also comes from doubt though. Doubt that I would ever be able to accomplish this. Doubt that others would be on board for it. It's still new, still delicate. I don't yet have the strength of conviction. It's coming though. I can feel it. So I am going to keep visiting this dream. He may have been a bit unexpected, but now that he's here I hope he doesn't leave.

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.

Ten Things...Overwhelmed by School

I have less than two weeks until the semester is over. This is insane when I consider the amount of work that has to be accomplished between now and then. That includes all of my finals. I can't think about more than one thing at a time otherwise I start having some serious panic attacks. I love academic, but around this time of year I always start wondering why I am planning to stay in school for goodness knows how long. I know I will survive this though. Here are ten posts that prove that I've been in this place before and come out in one piece:

1. Now I'm hunched over a typewriter
2. After 17 pages I have a rough draft
3. Burning the Midnight Oil
4. Drowning in a Flood
5. Sink or Swim
6. Trucking Through
7. Not Wanted on the Voyage
8. Daydreams of Paris
9. Just Relax
10. So many people are looking to me to be strong and to fight

Bring on the magic

On Thursday night my parents and I went to the Barra MacNeils' Christmas concert. They tour every couple of years and it has become a bit of a tradition for us to go to the show. This music is what makes me feel like it is officially Christmas. So even though the show was exactly a month before Christmas, and the weather outside has turned more spring-like than Christmas-y, I feel like it is now officially the Christmas season. Bring on the Christmas music, the lights, the tinsel, the gift wrap, the ribbons, the decorations, the glitter...bring on the magic. Because there really is something magical about Christmas-time. It doesn't matter how old I get, I still love this time of year. I love it for different reasons now. The presents matter less (although I do have strong opinions about the practice of gift-giving, but I will save those for another time), but the love matters more. Getting dressed up matters less, but the beauty matters more. Getting time off from work and school matters less, but the practice of taking some time to breathe and enjoy life matters more. Eating lots of food matters less, but spending time with family and friends matters more. Don't get me wrong, I still love presents and holiday meals and getting dressed up and getting time off from school. It's just that as I get older other things begin to be more important than all of that. I think part of the magic for me though comes from the plethora of lights that emerges at Christmas. I am obsessed with light. I am constantly struck with a sense of wonder and magic by light, so the light-filled holiday season is right up my alley. Whatever the reason for all this magic, I say bring it on. My Christmas season has official begun with a dose of east coast music that allowed me to forget for a few hours that I am currently living in Edmonton and drowning in homework. If that's not magic, I don't know what is.