shewasavisitor

Highway 403
Union Station
The Danforth
Union Station
Detroit
Waterford City
Parry Sound
Penrhos Feilw Standing Stones
Toronto harbour

Poppies In July by Sylvia Plath:

Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?

You flicker.  I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames.  Nothing burns

And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.

A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!

There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?

If I could bleed, or sleep! –
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!

Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.

But colorless.  Colorless.

“Everybody has a superficial side and a deep side, but this culture doesn’t place much value on depth — we don’t have shamans or soothsayers, and depth isn’t encouraged or understood. Surrounded by this shallow, glossy society we develop a shallow side, too, and we become attracted to fluff. That’s reflected in the fact that this culture sets up an addiction to romance based on insecurity — the uncertainty of whether or not you’re truly united with the object of your obsession or the rush people get hooked on. I’ve seen this pattern so much in myself and my friends and some people never get off that line.

But along with developing my superficial side, I always nurtured a deeper longing, so even when I was falling into the trap of that other kind of love, I was hip to what I was doing. I recently read an article in Esquire magazine called ‘The End of Sex,’ that said something that struck me as very true. It said: “If you want endless repetition, see a lot of different people. If you want infinite variety, stay with one.” What happens when you date is you run all your best moves and tell all your best stories — and in a way, that routine is a method for falling in love with yourself over and over.

You can’t do that with a longtime mate because he knows all that old material. With a long relationship, things die then are rekindled, and that shared process of rebirth deepens the love. It’s hard work, though, and a lot of people run at the first sign of trouble. You’re with this person, and suddenly you look like an asshole to them or they look like an asshole to you — it’s unpleasant, but if you can get through it you get closer and you learn a way of loving that’s different from the neurotic love enshrined in movies. It’s warmer and has more padding to it”.

Logan at Gerrard

29

***
In the great scope of my life, right now – in this moment! – I am here.
I am not an ordinary person. This is not an ordinary experience.
And for this, I honour myself, this space, and this time.
I am so fortunate to be here, in this moment,
and I choose to celebrate this every day.

(Leap)

***
29 days of self-portraits in the advent of Leap Day

28

In late September of 2016, Hurricane Matthew ravaged a tremendous part of southern North America. Its effects were felt locally – Toronto’s boat-dwelling marina folks were told to batten down our hatches. The winds were very very strong. Here is a strange drawing I drew of myself as I sat in the window of my houseboat watching the spoils.

The morning after, I spoke about the storm with a neighbour. He shared that he had been living on boats his whole life and that he’d weathered many storms on the open water. I was moved by his stories and felt grateful that we in Toronto had it so easy against what was being revealed internationally. Five months later, I traveled to Haiti to assist in a grassroots rebuilding of that freshly devastated nation.

The conversation I’d had with that neighbour about Hurricane Matthew was the first time we’d shared anything personal and it forged a new familiarity between us. On this day three years ago I returned from my trip to Haiti. On this day three months ago, my boat neighbour very suddenly passed away.

***

29 days of self-portraits in the advent of Leap Day