personal tragedies

Why do you look at him?
...because he's pretty... because he's cool
and he knows it,
damn it.

Does it bother you that just as God smote people in history,
you can also be smitten in love?

If I read bits of great literature
my life's pathetic tragedies lose their pedestal.

When Celsius meets Farenheit

This morning, I put on three pairs of socks. The forecast for the day only put the high at -20C (with the low at -33C/-27F), so I thought I would dress up to prevent the unfortunately likely event that my toes fall off. I've got this thing called Raynaud's Syndrome. Basically, if I don't wear the right footwear, my toes go white and I am in a lot of pain. My doctor has told me to move to a warm climate. "You're young, you have time," she said.

And today was only proof that I do indeed need to get on that plan to move. In parts of Quebec, it was colder than it is at the North Pole. Armed (Footed?) with three pairs of socks and wearing long underwear and the thickest sweater I own, I trekked out into the world. The cold was like a force, working its way through my pants instantly and cooling my legs. It was like fingers slipping under and behind my eyeballs. It is such a penetrating cold. Thankfully it is not windy, not yet. There are still two more days of this type of weather forecast...

In the US, they would declare a state of emergency or something. In fact, last Saturday in Boston (I was visiting), with 4-6 inches of snow, the city of Cambridge declared a State of Emergency. Pa-thetic. I've heard that schools in Rhode Island are closing because of the cold tomorrow. And in Canada? We move right on. I went to yoga, went into work, and am going out to a dance concert tonight. Cold? Put on another layer, you'll be fine. Sure the weather can seem a little ridiculous, almost inhuman. But we Canadians, we're intrepid and always up for the challenge.

Montreal > New York City

Inside, it's dark

Life is also these other emotions felt on the inside
like a dry sponge, twisting, petrified
You also have that holed, oil-stained rag
slung over one of your ribs.
Pretending on the outside, polished, fools
but only for a while. There is a shadow.

This emotion, I could say I hate
it, but I feel the pit of my stomach
a muscle I always had, but never used.

New Appreciation for New Year's

As we walked through the tunnel to the L train heading towards the final countdown of 2008, a man serenaded passersby with Auld Lang Syne on his saxophone while the echo of heels rang back from the girls in black dresses and feathery hats.

I am not usually a big fan of New Year's. Last year I spent the holiday (which is basically a transition between seconds, albeit the most important transition of the year) on top of a hill by a bonfire in Vermont. I trekked up there on snowshoes with the aid of a headlamp with a group of other guests staying at the inn. It was a very powerful moment.

Last night was all different. The cold was still there but I was in New York City wearing nice dress shoes and accompanied by a group of friends who had descended on the city from Boston for the bash. Even though Chris and Ayten were three hours late from Boston because of inclement weather on dubious road conditions, we whisked up to Pio Pio, a Peruvian restaurant on Amsterdam with no worries and excited for the night. We found a chattering lively restaurant with warm yellow walls, great food and Recession- and student-worthy prices (I couldn't resist that Recession jab).

Out again we were in the cold nippy night to head to my sister Zarya's party (which she co-hosted) where we doubled the attendance with our arrival. My friends from Boston (aka my 'entourage' as Z called it) got to relax and chat with some new folks. A night of adventures on public transit (and/or misadventures...), laughs, good people, good cheer was only continuing. We were ultimately headed to our friend Shirley's in the Lower East Side so we got back on the subway, losing the travel-weary Chris and Ayten (in transit between Boston and DC) along the way.

As we walked through the tunnel to the L train heading towards the final countdown of 2008, a man serenaded passersby with Auld Lang Syne on his saxophone while the echo of heels rang back from the girls in black dresses and feathery hats. That was it at that point for me. NYC buzzed with an energy that we were all sensing, an excitement that spread across the city. New Year's Eve was more than a transition between seconds but a time to have fun, celebrate life, celebrate your friends and enjoy.

I believe the New Year rang in somewhere between 1st Avenue and Union Square, we huddled in the cold over a subway grate and cheered, and continued to enjoy each others company. We found an extra drink or two (to wait out the Subway clog at Times Square where we had to transfer trains) before the group dissipated and I melted into my bed. A lovely end to an old year past and a happy start to a new year just beginning.

Here's to a fine 2009!

sweet nothing

j'adore
mon prince
tu comprends tout

Ice and Snow and Others

A visual survey of the land of ice and snow and the world of stefan...

Ode of a social caterpillar

I am at peace in feature film silences,
darkness that negates conversation.
I thrive in meditative warmth that shuts
out the world and allows me thought.
I can smile and chitchat only when social
activity is structured, square-danced.
Otherwise, I paper the wall and stick
to my one friend, I run away and circle
the block, spinning, before returning, breaking
off another part of my cocoon.

Canadian Politics: Where's the Confidence?

Canada faces, as a reporter said on the news tonight, a "new and strange" situation in national politics. Something that distantly resembles a coup. The Conservative government, recently re-elected into a minority government, is facing a possible vote of no-confidence next Monday. The opposition parties, the Liberals, the New Democratic Party (NDP) and the Bloc Quebecois, have joined forces to form a possible coalition government.

The fall from grace comes when the Conservative government unveiled their economic plan that featured a slash of 75% to the funding of all political parties, thus cutting their only source of funding since independent solicitation is not allowed. The economy was already a touchy subject, a bomb one cilia away from exploding, and this proved to be the last straw.

Originally I had confidence that Stephen Harper and the Conservatives could cautiously lead this country to stability amidst the unrest of a global economic crisis. I've been unconvinced, seeing our leaders confused over the course of action. We were originally told that we might run deficits in order to to help sustain our economy, supposedly one of the strongest ones in the world (according to the IMF) that would resist a recession. But recently Conservatives seemed to announce that a surplus would result for this year. Brace for the worst and give us the best? We don't want you to flash your smile and brown-nose us to get our approval, we want to see you work hard, explain things, and do what you have to in order to fix things and anchor us back to solidity.

I'd like to think we want a situation that unfolds much in the methodical and clear way that Obama rolls out his new government. Instead we have a squabbling house, a pathetic leader, and a pathetic coup of the current leadership. Nothing at the moment inspires confidence.

I would like to believe that a coalition government could help fix things. But how exactly would decisions be made under a coalition government? At a time of economic instability, political instability is the last thing that Canada needs. Canadians need to know exactly how things would work in terms of the balance of power. We need to have all the cards on the table: the platform for such a coalition government along with the concessions and agreements between the parties involved. The Liberal leader, Stephane Dion, (whose power was seriously questioned at the time of the last election and who will relinquish his leadership in May) leans heavily on the NDP and the Bloc for support. The NDP is feared to be a socialist stronghold while the Bloc feared as a separatism monger. WE AS CANADIANS NEED TO KNOW MORE.

Canadians need reassurance that those we elected on the Hill are thinking of our future as a country not just their future at its helm. How then would the logistics of decision-making under a coalition help or hinder our country?

Vestigial

Sometimes I think of you and wonder if you’re dead, wonder
if you think of me, or if you stop to consider
writing of your mind, your trajectory. There
are only so many lives, only so many
friends I can stretch my ten fingers towards. The others, like you, fall
to my imagination and I start to tell stories
of make believe with only the smallest
remnant of you. But I do not yet know
the end, my stories run on in the past
and again I think of you and wonder.


-SZR

Eye of the Fire: Best. Story. Ever.

Friday morning, on the last day of a 5-day early morning Chakra Yoga workshop, we reflected on our week, meditated and engaged in some free-flow yoga. Over the course of the week we had focused on each of the seven energy centers of the body. We learned their colors, we learned their sounds, we learned over what domains of life they preside. The third chakra, where the ego lives supposedly, had been a particularly challenging centre. The yellow fiery energy hub had stirred up a lot of stuff about life, direction, purpose... Apparently its the last domain of the body/ego before you go upwards to enlightenment. Or so they say.

So we were engaging in some free-flow yoga. Basically the music went and we just did the positions that our body demanded. At the beginning of Friday's class we had all lit a candle and put it at the front of our mats. As I got out of child's pose and leant forward in downward facing dog, my hair hung down over my candle. And suddenly, I heard the FOOM of flames catching, and looked up as I leant back down into child's pose just quick enough to glimpse the brightness of fire that had caught my hair. It extinguished just as fast as it caught fire.

The stench was instantaneous. I ran my hand through my hair and immediately took out a dried crusty smelly clump. I left the room quickly to survey the damage, brush my hair and get back to class. HI-LA-RI-OUS. We had talked about getting the energy from our lower energy centers up to our minds, get the energy flowing. I quite literally got the fire to go right to my head!

And class just continued (regardless of the stench).

After the final class was over, I surveyed the damage and discovered I had a little tuft of hair at the base of my scalp over my right eye. Hardly noticeable. But I took it as a sign, go lop off the hair, it's about time.

So the next day I went to Funky Toque and told the hairstyle to work with the tuft... and from the flames, we have renewal, and a much younger looking Stefan (see below, and note the reds and yellows and oranges in the background).

Keep Your Fancy Pants for Special Occasions

As with every Sunday edition of the New York Times, I acted no differently on this week's end in immediately flipping to the Sunday Styles section. I like looking at the photos of the newlyweds, scanning the fashion photos and reading the stories that seem more affable and comforting then the bad complicated news the news usually delivers. Reading an article entitled 'No More Fancy Pants,' I was disgusted, not delighted as I usually am with exposes about contemporary life.

See article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/16/fashion/16consumption
.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink


The article looks at the current trend of downplaying the luxurious lifestyle. Just as sky-rocketing gas prices shook the populace to suddenly realize the ecological impact of their automobile affinities (issuing a rush of commercials touting the most fuel-efficient cars on the road, abruptly ending the fad of tanksized vehicles), the crashing economic markets have commercial enterprises advertising the affordability of their wares and their many sales. At a time when people are losing their homes and their jobs, "if you're laying people off," as the article states, "you don't want to buy a Ferrari."

My problem with the article which focuses mainly on the well-to-do and how they are shifting their lifestyles in accordance to the current economic climate, and its subsequent effect on trends in lifestyle, is that it treats modest living as nothing more than a trend. While I have no doubt that it is true (the article briefly mentions previous economic downturns of the 1930s, 1980s and post 9/11), the author misses the boat completely on the artificiality of blind consumerism.

In my humble opinion, flaunting opulence, fine jewelry or expensive clothes is never in fashion. Recycling your wardrobe every season, while it might be nice, is not realistic. There is this ideal of having massive amounts of disposable income to spend and buy at your heart's every whim that represents, for me, empty desires without any substance. I balk at this article and its claims that "thriftiness is making a comeback," "it's now chic to cut back," and "roast chicken will be very popular [addressing ostentatious and over-the-top restaurant food]."

Having clothes of quality, a comfortable home, strong connections to your family and friends, and a healthy lifestyle rooted in your local environment shouldn't be something that comes in and out of fashion. Such things are timeless, classic, but more importantly fundamentally human. Treat yourself every now and then, make it special, to be savoured. And focus on the foundational and eternal trues of life, the ones that never fade in and out of style.

Swedish Poetry? Swedish Poetry

My mother recently gave me a small collection of poetry from "one of the most influential figures in modernist Swedish poetry." It consisted of a collection called Ideals Clearance written by Henry Parland in 1929, a year before he would die at the young age of 22. I'm 22. If I were Henry Parland, I'd be dead.

Anyways, I wanted to share to pieces from the poet that got me thinking...



from SOCKS

XV.
Everybody
wants something from me
even the cigarette smoke
coils question marks
doors threaten to devour me,
the matches' legs
are so long and hungry,
the coffee cups curl their pale lips
with scorn-.


from FLU

IX.
I'm scared
very scared
that when we one day creep out
of ourselves,

we will stand on a beach
with runny noses,
wrapped up in the raincoats of our personalities
and watch ice floes drift past.

Expression

It's incredible how I feel when I can put thoughts into words, when unlikely similes and metaphors just bubble to the surface, to the tips of my fingers and come out. I feel a certain very simple pride and humble radiance when I do this. For that I must continue writing...

Ghandi once said: "Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it." And in fact it's true, you must do whatever it is you do to feed yourself, to inspire others, to help, to comfort, to connect. We think about purpose, and goals, and plans, and returns too often... when really we should just stop, and do.

A friend of mine who is still at Harvard and devoting himself to a craft he does so well is my friend Jose Olivarez. Him and his friend Nate have undertaken a challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days. I commend him. At a place like Harvard, you need to put yourself up for the challenge to promote what you truly believe in. Keep with him as he continues along the poetic month: http://quetothepasa.wordpress.com/.

Another wonderful display of expression in action is the show So You Think You Can Dance, which is in its inaugural season in Canada (the top 10 took to the stage last night). There are some incredible dancers who pour their soul out and radiate their spirits across the airwaves. Something about the show just inspires me, music embodied, passion presented, spirits shining. Two technically incredible dancers who I think have lots of spirit are Vincent Noiseux and Allie Bertram; both danced well-choreographed solos and displayed style. Allie, with training in ballet, rocked the stage in a pouffy tutu but a plaid vest and one pink-red slipper. Vincent kicked ass in his disco routine with Arassay. Which brings me to the other two dancers who should be in the top 4: Arassay Reyes and Nico Archambault. These two are stunning dancers as well as beautiful people, both physically and spiritually. In my opinion, in their solos, they really put their hearts on the stage. It is incredible to see people ooze passion from their pours and make you feel their potency, their energy, their spirit.

*Images from CTV website for So You Think You Can Dance (Allie, Arassay, Nico and Vincent)

Belated Boo!

It isn't too late, there isn't any snow on the ground yet.
Although, as a child, November 1st was often the day of our first snow.
Here, then, is our glorious pumpkin.

Opening the Floodgates: New Poems

I hadn't sat down to write poetry since I came home from school.
I never felt motivated.
I got discouraged.
My poems wouldn't be published, no one would read them, nothing would happen, what's the point?
But as the summer continued, I reminisced back to dreams I had when I was younger.
I wanted to be a writer.
And I can BE a writer, very simply someone who writes.
Who cares where the words go?
If they touch even one person, it will be worth it.
So here for you, two as of yet untitled poems.

*the open square bracket means the words that follow are meant to be at the end of the previous line




I wasn't aware there was
God in my hands. I thought He only lived between
and in my eyes. But yesterday, the charge electrified
my fingers. I wanted to taser my heart and spread
divinity through my bloodstream.







If I could walk and write at the same time, I would pen shaky-handed
masterpieces and illegible soliloquies that soar. My mind would [continue
dropping unlikely phrases, trailing them behind as I walk home. [Punctuation
and words would leave their invisible trace, stealing the breath of [hearts that have sung
true poetry, lost words, and bled gratefully into triumphant echo.

Autumnal Visual Interlude

No to Yes

This morning there has definitely been a noticeable pattern. At first sight, obstacles stood in the way of my tasks. But if I just tried and tried again, the obstacles came down.

It started at the bank. I went in to discuss my accounts and my investments and I had made an appointment last week. When I checked in with the secretary and she tried to find my appointment, she started frowning and looked puzzled. It seemed I didn't have an appointment. I gave her more information and she asked if I had had an appointment last week. No. I made an appointment last week. With a bit of discussion she informed me that the man I had made an appointment with had made my appointment for the day I had come in. He was new. But there was no problem, I saw the bank representative nonetheless, without too much fuss, and a little bit of a wait.

Then I was off to vote. Do my civic duty. Outremont is one of the hot ridings in which the Liberals really have to fight to get their seat. We elected an NDP candidate in a by-election and now they put in a new Liberal candidate. The NDP encumbent has much experience at the provincial level with the environment and finance while the Liberal is a strong proponent of the arts. We'll see what happens. Anyways I showed up at the polling station but soon realized that there must be something wrong. My polling station number wasn't represented in the building. Perhaps because it was before 10am on a Tuesday, I had just gone on autopilot to the polling station of the last election. My polling station was actually somewhere else. So I walked down the road and finally figured it out and I voted.

After these two obstacles I thought a coffee would do the trick and headed to a Caffe Olimpico for a latte. Latte pour ici, I said to the barista. Caffe latte?, he asked. Oui, I reponded. I just said that, I thought. He followed up, Pour ici? Oui, I responded again. I said that too, I thought, what is going on with my morning....

And I thought about these little moments. Appointments and plans and communication not going as ahead as planned. But with a bit of thought, plenty of breath, and calm, the goal was accomplished nonetheless. Maybe it's a pattern of my life at the moment? I am waiting to hear about jobs, waiting to hear about details, and have heard nothing. By the end of the week, I was told... last week. Deep down I knew that it would maybe be this week. I hope. So with a bit of thought, plenty of breath and calm, maybe I'll get the positive responses I want. The path isn't what I thought it would be, but the goal remains the same. Patience et courage, overcoming obstacles can only make you stronger...

shifting focus, changing seasons, giving thanks

Whether I like it or not, summer is over. This past weekend Montreal has been blessed with lovely warm weather and I was lucky to spend my afternoons wandering the city. And although some were still in flip flops and shorts (or barefoot dancing to the drumbeat at the Tam Tams), it was definitely scarf-light-jacket weather.

Yesterday morning I went to the Jean Talon market and saw the local harvest in full color: cranberries, butternut squash, peppers, corn, brussel sprouts, cabbages, potatoes, onions... A busy local market in the first chills of autumn. We were doing our shopping for the Canadian Thanksgiving meal today.

In the past, when I was in the States, the Canadian Club at college would put together a meal and my American friends would ask, What are you celebrating? As far as I know, Canadian Thanksgiving is not tied to any historical event but to the change of the season, the gathering of the harvest. But really, who really needs something to celebrate or commemorate? It's more than enough to just give thanks. So often in our lives we focus on the negative; we bitch and moan and complain. There is at least this one supper where we sit back and reflect on what we HAVE, what we are thankful for, focus on the positive instead of the negative. Health, love, family, stability, food, shelter, friends. There is so much that we have, we should really take more time to take tabs. Every day should be thanksgiving. We would lead such fulfilled lives.

For now, the turkey is brining in a massive pot (ironically made in Turkey), we're planning our supper, inviting our neighbours, and coming together. And for that very simple communion, I give thanks.

More Quotes for Thought

I am right now in the midst of Living with the Himalayan Masters. But I finished Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body and Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly last week and have some quotes that resonated with me. Bauby's memoir which was turned into the movie by Julian Schnabel had such delicacy, vividness and evocation. It's a quick read and very much worth the time and attention. I had read Winterson before (part of the myth series from Knopf) but never really delved into the rich poetic prose that I discovered in Written on the Body. Both such rich reads, enjoy the snippets.


The Diving Bell and the Butterfly...

Meticulous people never go wrong: they scrupulously note down each letter and never seek to unravel the mystery of a sentence before it is complete. Nor would they dream of completing a single word for you. Unwilling to chance the smallest error, they will never take it upon themselves to provide the “room” that follows “mush,” the “ic” that follows “atom,” or the “nable” without which neither “intermi” nor “abomi” can exist. Such scrupulousness makes for laborious progress, but at least you avoid the misunderstandings which impulsive visitors bog down when they neglect to verify their intuitions. Yet I understood the poetry of such mind games one day when, attempting to ask for my glasses (lunettes), I was asked what I wanted to do with the moon (lune).

I have known gentler awakenings. When I came to that late-January morning, the hospital ophthalmologist was leaning over me and sewing my right eyelid shut with a needle and thread, just as if he were darning a sock.




Written on the Body...

You didn’t answer. Why do human beings need answers? Partly I suppose because without one, almost any one, the question itself soon sounds silly.

‘Hello Louise. I was passing so I thought I might pop in.’
Pop in. What a ridiculous phrase. What am I, a cuckoo clock?

All these jewels were escorted by amply cut grey suits and dashing spotted ties. The ties twitched when Louise walked by and the suits bulled themselves in a little. The jewels glinted their own warning at Louise’s bare throat.

I cut a slice of fruit bread. If in doubt eat. I can understand why for some people the best social worker is the fridge.

I am drowning in inevitability.

What of that other characteristic prevalent in human living things, the longing to be loved? No, it doesn’t come under the heading Reproduction. I have no desire to reproduce but I still seek out love. Reproduction. Over-polished Queen Anne style dining-room suite reduced to clear. Genuine wood. IS that what I want? The model family, two plus two in an easy home assembly kit. I don’t want a model, I want the full-scale original. I don’t want to reproduce, I want to make something entirely new.

The bolts of the collar bone undo me.

Shuttered like a fan no-one suspects your shoulder blades of wings. While you lay on your belly I kneaded the hard edges of your flight.

In the very early morning the hours have a different quality, they stretch and promise.

I’ve though a lot about death recently, the finality of it, the argument ending in mid-air. One of us hadn’t finished, why did the other one go?

What do the dead do at night? DO they come forth grinning at the wind whistling through their ribs.