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06 July 2006

The sensation of standing on a dock that juts into the Pacific ocean, that in turn is nestled into a now-crumbling community on one of the most western point of Canada, that is declared the home of pilots whom the rest of the world has declared “kamikaze”, all with a November wind that is mixed with coastal rain, that has all found passage to where I stood at that exact moment, waiting for my plane, was mesmerizing. It professes an inherent ability to wordless force your hands deeper into your pockets and to tuck your chin further into the collar of your jacket. I was chilled and damp before I even began my work. I would be frozen and soaked when I was finished. But it wasn’t about the wet. Or the temperature. Or the fog bank that hadn’t really lifted since early October. It was about stepping into a fear that took the shape of a miniscule plane that would take me to what would be my home for several weeks. It was about looking around as if I were waking up from a very long sleep, having a vague recollection of how I got to where I now stood; the details were, nonetheless, hazy. To this day I am continually awed at how fear and exhilaration have the exact same effect on the muscles of my stomach. Only my head can tell the two apart.

Jonathon Swift once wrote “May you live all the days of your life” and I think about it often. I think about life and love and living, dying, breathing, and reaching. I think about where I have moved from, or in, or around, or just within arm’s reach, to where I am now. And I thought about that as I stood on the dock and felt the mist on my face. I wondered if the weight of decision, action, and consequence could be measured, how much it would be? Would it fit in my hand? Be held in my arms? Or would it crush me by its magnitude in all those little ways I ‘didn’t think through’? Or perhaps it would cut me, leaving a small scar, a hypothetical signature to say that it was here and put me in my proverbial place.

Maybe in the end everything that I thought would really matter will end up dissolving back to basic elements. Maybe everything I took for granted, even for the briefest moment will be the secret to life. Maybe I fell asleep at the least opportune moment, but woke back up at a pivitol point? Who's to say?

The sunset tonight was beautiful.

"I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by loving, by losing."

Anais Nin

1 comment:

Newsandseduction said...

interesting blog and quotes.