My Reply

"This is my reply, my pleading cry, a tattered page in the waves of eternity......... so take my words for what you will and try to understand..." - My Reply - Brightwood


For every unsaid word I want to say
There are a thousand voices forbidding
Every time the thoughts come in
A light inside is restricted
There are hundreds of scenarios in my head
I play over and over and over
I thought it would end but it never ends
Didn’t I just start over?
You’re not alone on the ride
These waves make me sea sick as well
I too question why
At this point I’m not one to tell
But I ride them along
Thinking this storm will blow over
Sometimes they're calm;
But then they get stronger and stronger
Hidden and locked up; jumbled inside
Are the feelings you’ve labeled as “hard”
They try to find their way out
And I do well to shut them back in
The day will come I’ll own up to all this
But, the lies will suffice until then...

Truth in the Heart

Why do we constantly lie to our hearts? We spend so much time convincing, persuading and forcing our hearts to believe things that aren’t true that we miss the truth entirely. Then, it is all the more earth-shattering to know that our hearts knew the truth all along, but kept quiet because we told it to. I can lie to my heart hundreds of times a day, “You don’t need that, you don’t believe that.” Do I need it? Do I believe it? Perhaps my rationalization is that I am protecting my heart by lying to it. If I tell it not to feel, it won’t feel and I won’t get hurt right? Wrong. The heart feels what it wants regardless of what you tell it to, it’s just a matter of how well you hide it, of how “proud” you can be, of how successful you are at silencing that of which lies inside you. Then all the lies pile up covering the heart like paper-mache, and it hardens, concealing it so that not only does the truth not come out but neither does our true self. We are so buried beneath it all that we fade away, until something happens that begins to pick away at the shell and cause it to crumble. It is only then you truly realize what has been there all along. You feel alive again, yet you are scared and you are vulnerable, and where there is vulnerability there is a need for protection and our default setting as humans is to protect by lying. So we begin to lie to our hearts once again, telling it the same things, telling it what not to feel. It is a vicious circle of deception, and while we aimlessly search for “truth”, we are bemused to find out it has been there all along; deep down inside the heart.

Oh the bath...

I can't remember the last time I took a bubble bath… perhaps that was why I saw a need to have one tonight? I bathed all the way until I was like 12 and then it was strictly showers from then on in. Suddenly the idea of sitting in water to cleanse one self wasn't appealing anymore. Plus, depending on the shape of your bathtub or the length of your body, it is always awkward to lie in; one portion of your body always gets cold (of course there could be some kind of technique to elegantly lying in a bathtub, if you know of one please let me know).
When I picture a bubble bath, I picture a feminine woman, with her hair tied up, sitting amongst bubbles and reading a book perhaps a glass of wine and candles if one sees fit? Nonetheless, I run the water: 1. I don't have bubble bath; body wash will have to do. 2. I don't know of many women who consider their naked self to be very elegant and feminine? 3. Hair is tied up, not as I'd pictured but who knows the difference? 4. I soon realize it is extremely difficult to have all your limbs immersed in water and still manage to keep your hands dry enough to hold a book. 5. I despise wine. The smell as my nose is about to enter a glass tells me of my mistake before I make it. 6. No candles, who am I kidding?
So I sit, and I sit…. The only sound is the annoying sound that bubbles make. Is there onomatopoeia for the sound that bubbles make? I'd say it closely resembles the sound of Rice Krispies. A bath is a very secluded form of solitude, one without distraction (if you have already soaked your book that is). Now I am someone who likes to be alone, and I found myself to be bored… quite soon. What to do, what to do? I then begin remembering all the games that I would play in the bath as a child, and it's hard not to smile. Was it really that long ago? I remember when the bubbles weren't just a means to cover yourself up with but a toy sprung from your child-like creativity. You could blow them from your hands and create magic, or place them on your face to make a beard (come on don't try to say you've never done it).

Where has that child-like creativity gone? I believe it is prematurely put away while we try to grow up too fast. I believe it's somewhere in the cluster of our "mature" imaginations (if such a thing exists) under a muster of dust waiting to be reborn. And one day it will I'm sure, that is one of the main roles of children in our lives is it not? After all this reminiscing with myself I realize some time has passed, the bubbles have all faded away and all that's left is me... It isn't until then that I can grasp why people like to take baths.

John

John is the most peculiar character I think I have ever met. He first talked to me on one of the first days of physics lectures this year, and I dubbed him as peculiar the first day I met him. He had a certain way about him that intrigued me, he looked at me with a smile and said “Good morning” in a manner I was not quite used to and it made me laugh. From that day on he began talking to me more and more, each occurrence slightly more distinctive then the last. He would ask me random questions such as “What are your hobbies?” and I would just smile and he would ask “why are you smiling?” I didn’t know why I smiled or why I thought each conversation with him was so eccentric, but he was interesting…more interesting than physics at least. Each day began to be a different story with John; one day he is commenting on his readings of the Koran, the next day he’s reading a French novel (he doesn’t understand French but he’d like to). One day he shaves his head because he wants to become a monk, and the next he is on some fast in which you do not eat during daylight.

So one day I am incredibly late for class and in my attempt to not disturb others’ learning I sit in the very back row, which is a dimly lit, little corner by the door where you can’t even see the professor… at all. So as I sit and attempt to take my notes, John strolls in and sits beside me. He then whispers in my ear “I have to tell you something”, and then he proceeds to tell me how he is not registered in university… I’m in shock. He got a hold of the timetable somehow and attends 7 lectures: physics, engineering mechanics, fluid mechanics, logic, calculus, linear algebra and ethics. He just goes to lectures and doesn’t take the tests. I don’t know if you know this or not but my physics class is at 8 am in the morning!! I can’t help but think who in their right mind would be here if they didn’t need to be??
That’s just the thing, by now I’m sure you have come to some kind of conclusion that John is not in his right mind, which is where I was as well. So by this time, I have other friends in physics as well and this new revelation has made us quite interested to know more about the life of John. I could tell by the way John dressed that he was not well off, which spun my theories that he couldn’t afford university but so badly wanted to learn. Well, we soon learned that he was homeless, living in a shelter downtown. He is 21 and works as a dishwasher in a hotel, which is how he affords to buy a chocolate chip muffin everyday (which he always offers to me). He has family in Ontario which he left behind a couple years ago and has been hitchhiking all over the country ever since.

As time moves on, I have found that John is becoming more of an annoyance to me than an interesting part of my day. He pops up behind me while I walk with my music on and scares me to death. He has asked me twice for a hug, offered his arm to escort me to class, made me a random cup of caramel mate tea, and told me he loved me and to bear his children (I told him I would pretend I didn’t hear those last comments). So I’m thinking he’s completely lost it after the child bearing comment and then he writes his web page on my notebook which is like his own little blog. After reading it I realize he’s not crazy, he’s actually a very intellectual individual, who doesn’t want to be tied down to one place. Although when I say he’s not crazy I don’t mean he’s not odd, because he really is.

So as annoying as he can be at times when I’m not in the mood for his antics, he has taught me something. As I whine and complain about having to get up so early for class, and about how much I completely loathe physics, I have to stop and think about how many people in this world would love to be in my place, would love to learn, and would love the opportunity to attend even one 50 minute lecture of physics. And as I complain about how my bed keeps getting smaller I have to stop and think about how many people would die to even have a single blanket; a pillow. Suddenly, getting out of my own bed and driving my car to class at 8 am isn’t so bad…I am blessed and I am thankful.

Growing Pains

Are we aware we are growing??

Physically it seems that one day we wake up and we have grown bigger somehow. Our shoes don’t fit, jeans shorten to show socks, shirts become like another layer of skin and it seems to us like the growth happens overnight. It occurs under our radar, without notice, until one day we question how we have become the way we are. Does the same happen mentally? I have heard that the most prominent stages of mental growth are roughly from the ages of 19-22. By prominent mental growth at this stage I mean finding a sense of self, a way of knowing that we are no longer like what we used to be. We find who we are on our own, away from everything that made up our childhood and molded us into who we have found ourselves to be at this point.

But now what?

Now we are left to fend for ourselves in the world and develop ourselves, create our own mold, be who we want to be; perhaps who we were intended to be.

And when this begins to happen is there a way of knowing? Some sign that indicates that growth has begun and we have embarked on a journey and are unknowing of its path. It’s like a water slide in which you go among its many twists and turns and simply slide along the water. Sometimes you get stuck when there isn’t enough water, and you need to push. Scary? Maybe, but it’s a good scary, the thrilling scary that makes us die to know what’s behind every turn.

I think I know I’m growing. Maybe its Calgary, maybe its university, maybe its God, maybe it’s the psychology courses, maybe its just me in a weird mood, but the more I think about it the more I know I have begun growing. I spend a lot more time alone, becoming friends with me, getting to love me. And it has to be the best part of this whole experience so far. I love myself in ways I didn’t before; I am my own best friend. I think a lot more about who I am, who I’m not, who I’d like to be (or in psychology it is described as my “ideal self”).

It all comes down to the fact that the first part of growing is developing the bare minimum of who you were to begin with, because if you don’t know before hand, how are you to measure growth? If you do not have your previous height marked on the wall, how are you to know that your new height exceeds it? There must be something to compare ourselves to. And that is what I have begun to do, that is the initial stage of growing, and that is where I am.