Stormy Skies

Locke writes that God gave the earth to mankind in common, and of all the pieces of Mother Nature that humanity shares, nothing do we share in my opinion, more equally than the sky. That is why we are concerned about global warming, airborne diseases, and chemical pollutants right? Because we realize that, the sky above containing the air we breathe is something shared in common, knowing no political boundaries. That is why I love the sky; it brings equality unparallel to man. The same rain falls and comforts both the rich and the poor, and the rays that wake up a sleepy village in Africa powers the latest technology in the Western world.
I am a sky watcher. And I like her (it has to be a her, with the constant weather changes in Ottawa) because I think she has spunk. On Thursday, I went for walk after work to Champlain Point, one of the special places of Aaron and me. The air was hot and humid, and dark ominous clouds loomed, and everywhere at 5pm downtown Ottawa, ladies and gents hoped to hurry home before the storm set in. It was a strange feeling, being one of them yet also not really one of them. As a twentysomething, I had nowhere I had to go, no family obligations waiting, no after work meetings, and no one waiting for my arrival. As I walked to the point, taking a long route that circled parliament hill and then slowly ascended to the stairs that led to the small apex marked by the statute of Samuel Du Champlain, I walked happily against the traffic.
I would say this is one of the best lookout points in Ottawa, and on nice days I am certain it becomes a popular make out spot. To the left you see parliament hill including the actual hill in all its grandeur, to the right you see promenade Sussex and right in front, the bridge that brings you across to Gatineau. It is one of those spots where you feel like you are at the top of the world, with the cliffs and the water bowing down below you. By the time I got there, the sky started to let out teasing raindrops, the kind where if you had an umbrella you did not know if it is worth the hassle to pull it out to use. Normally, even though I am a Vancouverite, I hate rain. However, the soothing raindrops resonated within me this night.

Soon, it started to rain harder. What was strange though was how the exact spot I was at seemed to divide the rain clouds and the sunshine; I felt like I was witnessing a painting in action. I felt like I was seeing a physical representation of what the battle of good and evil must look like – to my left the darkness loomed and looked as if it stretched out its fat arms towards the light. To my right, out of the blues skies rays shot out like Zeus’ thunderbolts, hurling towards the enemy. It was magnificent and I have never seen such a display in the skies so prominently before in my life.
I sat there for some time and watched until eventually, the dark clouds blew away and sunshine once again followed me home, dry. Being a reflective and proud human being, I could not help but relate the skies to my own life, and thought how often that battle between ‘good and evil’ rages in my heart. The humidity in Ottawa is quite unbearable for me. Vancouver has the ocean breeze to offset the humidity so you never really feel it. Here, the air is so hot that you sweat from simply standing outside, and you cry out that it would just thundershower already, and release the tension in the air.
There is always a fight for big stuff isn’t there? For some decision, you have to make, and sometimes it is like that, it takes the storm to release the tension in the air. Life cycles, with periods of storms and sunshine, and times where you are just in the middle, like where I was standing alone at Champlain Point. Sometimes, it takes awhile before something breaks, and you wish it would just be over and you would just win already. God, why don’t you just let me win already? I have been trying so hard.

I feel like a big storm has just passed in my life, with the climax when Aaron and I decided to let each other go and better pursue what God has in store for the both of us alone. I cannot deny the thousands pounds, which seemed to lift off my chest when we shot Jimmy, our proverbial elephant (you know the saying “there’s an elephant in the room”?). Have you ever stood outside after a big storm? It is another strange feeling, because on the one hand you are so glad it is over, but on the other hand, you realize that you have to face the brokenness left behind. Storms often leave behind trails of debris, and I feel like there are many pieces to pick up now on the way of ‘finding me’.

(my stitches/check out the license plate!/Mel and I in Toronto)

Dear Ottawa,
You haven’t changed much since last year, with the humidity accompanying the summer flowers. Politicians and dignitaries still walk the grand halls of power, museums and relics of the past continue to wait for visits from curious eyes, and people keep living and dying, making fortunes on your city streets. But I am different, so please let me tell you what lessons I have learned while you were away.

(In)certainity?
The English language is a flawed, funny language with as many exceptions as there are rules. For example, why are some words negated with “un” while others with “in” such as uncertainty and certainty versus indirect and direct? Maybe because “incertainty” would mean that you are “in certainty”?

Uncertainty is beautiful thing; it forces us to accept and to live each day not knowing, seeing only the bit of light that God shines to guide and light our paths - not a step more, but also not a step less in the direction of His choosing. Uncertainty is a beautiful thing, but not when you try to force her to be or to do something for which she is not ready. There are times this year, in the midst of the numerous changes with grad school applications and future thinking, where I did just that, grasp at what I could not yet know. In these moments, I truly felt like a blind person without a guide, desperately groping for something – anything – to end up with nothing but perpetuate further desperation and heavier doses of self-afflicted pain. Today, as I sit with nothing more than a plane e-ticket back to Vancouver September 1, I choose to learn the lesson, and let uncertainty pursue its course.

SELfiSh – selfLESS
Did you ever notice how the word ‘less’ is in both the words selfish and its antonym, selfless – the difference lies in the placement of the letters L-E-S-S. Whereas “less” is grouped together nicely as the antecedent in selfless, as if an act of proclamation to the world at its meaning, “less” is harder to find in selfish, because the focus is on “self.” The meaning of the words tells a similar story don’t they? Selfish people talk a lot about themselves, and make their troubles and joys loud and clear to all who can hear, while selfless people are often not heard at all, and are given less due than they deserve.

It is sickening how many conversations have ended with my own self condemnation: I am selfish. It is even more sickening considering how these conversations should not keep reoccurring, because their reoccurrence only loudly attests to the failures to resolve the ugliness and the pain I hide behind such phrases and admissions. The truth is, while a part deep deep inside me longs to live the life, I mean, really live, unfettered by all earthly and material worries (so that includes all possible degrees, gross income, and loving relationships I would incur in this life) - another part wouldn’t mind if the plans in my head worked out, because I think my plans are pretty good. Right?

I take careful notice of my appearance for work, particularly when I worked in parliament last year. It was quite fun at first, dressing up, but it became poisonous when I felt naked without my mask on, as if my mask was the ultimate source of my confidence and value as a human being. In contrast, some of the best times, the best conversations I have had with others were when I was dirty and disshelved, in jeans and t-shirt, in tears and rain, most often a mix of it all. I am not saying people who dress up are fake or ugly, but do you notice how the people with that most beautiful glow, the sparkle in the eye that glittery eye shadow fails to capture, aren’t on magazine covers? Most likely, not wearing make-up? Less is more. Isn’t that the first rule of make-up, and doesn’t that apply in life as well? Less layers, no layers, is more.

Love - EVOLution – rEVOLution
My name is a palindrome, so since I was a kid I would automatically spell words backwards in my mind to see if it one, if it is another palindrome such as racecar, or two, if it spells out anything interesting such as noside. Love backwards spells evol, which leads to the verb evolve, and taken further to nouns, evolution or revolution if we dare. Love evolves doesn’t it? From family love to first loves, from reciprocal love to unconditional love, our understanding of love evolves as the people and the very circumstances in our lives shape and test us. With each moment, our understanding grows or shrinks. Maybe sometimes it is okay to shrink (despite our Enlightenment teaching of linear progress), and like the motions of our muscles when we work out, it has to be broken first in order to build up again stronger. I also mentioned revolution, but I am thinking of it from the origin of the word, revolution as an astronomical term for an object going around another object in a complete circular path, like the earth around the sun. Not the banners and protest rally image. But if you think about it, the two usages of the word are really the same. Do you notice how many revolutions, even if they would never admit, ultimately cry out for the restoration of past ideals and the fulfillment of broken promises? We want to get back at something that has been lost, corrupted, and tainted by a present world order, a particular regime, or a person, so it is like coming back full circle. Sometimes love is a revolution.

This is my first serious relationship, and the first time I have committed to love a person that way for so long (a year Tuesday). We are well past the roses and chocolates, and at times it feels like all we’ve got is heart ammunition. I reread some journal entries from this time last year, and a part of me wishes we were back where we were at a year ago. But Ottawa is different today, because I am different. Do you know that the path traveled by the earth around the sun, our revolutions (that marks our calendar years) are not exactly the same every time? It would be if the only two objects in space were the sun and the earth – but we are not the only objects in the universe (that would be pretty boring don’t you think?). And it’s like that, if we were the only two people on earth, than maybe things would be the same always. But it isn’t like that, just as the gravity of other planets, the other shining stars and distant galaxies push and pull on the earth during its revolutions around the sun, vying for attention, so do other people and circumstances in life, push and pull on our relationship. Yet the beautiful, though simple thing about revolutions is that they continue to happen, for there is a greater force between the sun and the earth than those who try to pull it apart. I hope, nay, I pray, that there is a greater force here too.

Ottawa, I don’t know what will happen in these three months and I will stop counting the days. I am going to live. Yesterday is past, tomorrow is yet to come, all we have is today, that’s why it is called the present.