How serious is serious?

June 7th, 2015

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASo I just got back from this wonderful road trip with my, uh, guyfriend. To visit his mom. In California.

I say this, and people give me this peculiar piercing look. Then they ask me, is it serious?  And I am flummoxed. I mean, what is serious? Liver cancer is serious. Babies are serious. Anything involving lawyers is serious. But love—how serious is that?

I just can’t sem to take serious seriously. Serious seems to imply some major sacrifice. But I have no money to lose; no career to change or forfeit. I’m too old for babies (to which i can finally, silently, add thank god). When I was 25 I was all too ready to throw myself into romantic fixation, but the truth is that now i know myself too well, and I like my own company too much, to sacrifice much of anything.

I suppose agreeing to share the rent can be serious, especially if the accommodation has only one bed. I’ve done that before, a couple of times—but it didn’t seem particularly serious then, and in restrospect, it wasn’t. It was mostly just convenient, and fun to play house for a while. I really thrive by having my own space. I’m not totally ruling out cohabitation as a concept, but splitting the rent doesn’t seem all that serious to me.

Maybe the seriousness implies legal entanglement—i.e, marriage. The funny thing is, I offered to marry Daniel even before we’d done the nasty. I proposed to him in a coffee shop. I explained that although I am opposed to marriage on principle, in his case, I would be willing to make an exception. My objection is that I am convinced that the state really has no place in the bedrooms of the nation, and whose business is it anyway, what parts of our bodies we may or may not put into each others bodies and how often? And why would anyone ever want to pay the government $100 for a licence to love someone (or $125 if you get it framed)? I think legal marriage is stupid. But I told Daniel that for him, I might be willing to throw down. Because, he is a lovely man, and it is a damn shame he was born American. And I think Canada would be all the better for having him in it. So I offered to bend my principle and offer my hand in marriage, if it might ease his legal entry into the country.

Daniel was a little taken aback by my proposal. He sputtered and said really?! I said, sure, if it would help. He gave me this look, this funny kind of shy and hopeful and miffed all at the same time look. But … he said … I would want it to mean something. There was something honest and grave in his voice. Something just a little bit serious.

Love is breath, it is buoyant. Love keeps me aloft. It keeps my head above water, and holds my feet to the ground. Love has levity, but also gravity. I guess it is the gravity of love that makes it serious. Serious, maybe. But not chronic. Or at least, not terminal.

<photo: Daniel’s mom’s very serious antique watering can collection>

Living the semi-wired life

May 17th, 2015

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAUnwiredness is one of the luxuries of life in my green schoolbus on the bluff. No wifi, no smart phone, no wires. I have a battery-operated radio but the reception is crap. When I want to hook up I carry my computer down the cliff trail and along the ocean boardwalk to the farmhouse. It is only a 5-minute commute, but that distance makes all the difference in the world.

I climb down the cliff and sit myself down here under the patio umbrella, log on, send off my queued emails, download my mail and maybe a podcast or two for later listening. Check my twitter feeds and analytics, and the Tideline for island gossip and news. Do a little blogging, send and receive a few graphic files. Log out, feed the chickens, pick some kale. Then climb back up to my bus on the bluff, to work and practice and play. Read the rest of this entry »

Mothers Day post-partum

May 10th, 2015

non-moms banner3 sizedWhew [mops brow]! I’ve just delivered a whompin’ 10-megabyte blog. This baby’s been at least five years in the belly so, it’s about frikin time. Gonna get some sleep now. Happy Mothers and Non-Mothers day everybody!

Check it:

In love with a boy and his dog

May 2nd, 2015

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI am in love with a boy and his dog. It’s an old-fashioned sort of a thing.

Because mostly how things go in these fast-moving times is: you meet, and you flirt, and then you have sex. Sometimes on the same day, or maybe on the second or third date. And then hormones explode and you get all dizzy and euphoric, and then mildly to madly obsessed. You can’t think about anything but him/her, you replay every moment and fantasize relentlessly. You ignore most of your friends and bore the rest of them half to death. This, is what the pop songs call Love. Read the rest of this entry »

Just for the…

April 12th, 2015

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe Gilean Todd was moored over at the landing, said to have rockfish, halibut, and cod. Spattering rain, gale warning in effect. But the tide had just turned so I put on my all-purpose bike gear, hauled out the blue kayak (like a split milk-jug), and set out for the wharf. With one boot full of seawater and the wind at my back.

I pulled up alongside and shouted up to the boat: Hey—you got fish?! Yup. Halibut. But only whole fish, said Silas, hoisting a glossy 14-pounder. Both eyes on one side, shiny as live. Just yesterday swimming off Comox.

I paddled round the wharf and dragged the kayak up the beach. Read the rest of this entry »

Mine won’t be having any

April 11th, 2015

generations_at_sunsetI was hanging out at the cafe with two longtime Island friends. Both about half a generation ahead of me in age. The g-word came up (grandkids!) and Kate immediately started in on the marvels of her latest grand-progeny. Denise, an accomplished qi-gong instructor and youthful, energetic force, shrugged. “Mine won’t be having any,” she said. Read the rest of this entry »

And this is why i quit my job

April 4th, 2015

CBHsUmZUQAEO5lS.jpg_largeNo hard feelings Hollyhock. Its been a nice cozy winter, sitting in my corner office overlooking the ocean, three days a week, tap-tapping away on my (thank god) Mac with the nice big monitor, grooving with the marketing team. I think I’ve done a pretty good job. But that’s enough—I’m too old for this nonsense.

This nonsense being, the act of sitting in front of a computer for 8 hrs a day (well ok less than that, with lunch and plenty of stretch breaks), investing my heart and soul into something which isn’t my passion. Don’t get me wrong—I totally respect Hollyhock and the good people that make it tick. If I didn’t, I couldn’t work there for even five minutes, in any capacity. I respect, and I support. But I am 50 years old and I’ve only got so much juice in me. Life is too short to atrophy my body, or to pour out my soul, for something that isn’t the very reason why I am alive on this earth. Read the rest of this entry »

My dharma nephew Misha Mountain

March 2nd, 2015

Misha Mountain Ross SchmittThis is Misha Mountain Ross Schmitt, my new dharma nephew. His mom is my dharma sister, Red Sara Ross. Misha entered into the world in a brave and unorthodox way— a bicycle buddha baby for sure.

Long before we were dharma sisters, Red Sara and I spun through each others’ orbits. Coinciding at Vancouver art happenings, celebrations and demonstrations, we were two red-headed shit disturbers, hell bent for saddle leather. For years, we circled the bike activist world of Vancouver like twin suns. But it wasn’t until I returned from Upaya in 2011, a newly-minted zennie, that we deeply connected. Read the rest of this entry »

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