HELLO FROM AWAY
I am sitting on the porch of some of my oldest and most beloved couple of friends. I’m trying to learn how to just “be”. It’s supposed to be a natural state but we have to practice it, which seems unnatural. Though I guess we humans are more well-oiled for living when we regularly practice anything! We are interesting creatures.
I’m in Toronto which is a true love of mine. Some of my most vibrant times have been here and I miss it every day, even when I am actually, physically here. Usually, I’m frantically working, playing a show or on my way through so I don’t get to “practice” my love for it. But finally, here I am. I’m also practicing killing off sentimentality as it is very dangerous.
Nostalgia is a killer. It is separate from love. The physical evidence of my time here is mostly gone, but I’m not allowing that to hurt (which is something most healthcare advocates discourage but in this case it feels healthy). By “allowing” I mean I am actively trying (like a graceless flapping flat tire, haha!) to transmute those experiences into something different. My experiences don’t die, but they also don’t keep other people from having their own very specific life changing ones in the same space. Events tied to the snapshots of a certain street, in a certain time that will undoubtedly, heartbreakingly change. My transmuted hurt doesn't say, “This sucks now!”, “Back when” or any of that lazy shit. It is a kind of an un-clutching?
I try notice what doesn’t change here instead, like how the light in this part of Ontario looks like nowhere else in the world, no matter what time of year. I looked through a farm window onto a scene of sky and grass and knew this could be no other place. I felt excitement and sadness at the same time. I gave into that vulnerable moment and let myself have it. It transmuted to some bright piece of stained glass I will focus on when dementia kicks in. I will smile and feel full.