Journal #1

I can barely describe how I’m feeling in a soundbite It’s much easier for me to extrapolate, to reflect when my mind keeps circulating information – it’s much easier letting go and moving on to the next place. The sun is shining, and, anointed by the light, I should make use of time.

I think I’m living in a kind of slow suffering. You’ll probably tell me to stop obsessing but the truth is I can’t yet. There’s the obligation I face, and the imminent changes. The legal responsibilities, and the conflicts that inevitably arise with family care. I am clear on these. What I don’t know is if I have the personal ability to withstand the changes. I am more and more understanding of my own mortality. I am more in tune with the ultimate ending.

I catch myself quite often saying – this is going to suck. I look down at the floor, I stop smiling at whatever trivial circumstance I happen to be in, and I don’t want to go any farther. It’s too easy to do nothing – the opposite of what I need to do.

The other morning I went to breakfast with family. There is one thing soothing about my life and that’s being with people I care deeply about. This was life about a younger generation. The girls were there, a friend, a boyfriend, and they were animated as usual. I am smiling now as they are important to me. I may not be a good person all the time but give me five minutes with them and I want to be better.

The contradictions are all around me. I will survive probably, the little things are where the answers are. Namaste my friends, thank you so much for sharing the moment. I can move on to tomorrow.


Business as Usual

Turn your head into the pillow, groan, and wait for the night’s stiffness to stop. Business as usual. The first thought is make coffee and light a smoke but you remember there’s half a coffee still in the office from the night before. Easy does it: you slip into your track bottoms and runners, checking for sore knees, a back spasm or god forbid, a swollen ankle – all signs you have reached middle age and the weather is changing. Out on the balcony, drawing heavily on a cigarette, there is barely enough light at this time of year. However, I can see two layers of clouds, one higher than the other – the lower one is moving in a different direction; rain clouds. I better take an umbrella today.

Dressed and out the door the rain has started. At first it is fine drizzle, but before long a steady downpour is underway. My umbrella is good and solid – for golf. I don’t golf much anymore , come to think of it, playing in wet weather is not very comfortable. My shoes are getting wet as are my trousers below the knees. I am trying to hide as best I can under the umbrella, letting the dome cover my back from the water. It’s a short walk to the bus stop but I hurry anyway as the route feels longer today. I try and avoid the puddles.

Fortunately several buses travel along the main road on their way into town. It’s a reasonably short walk in the summer but if the weather is uncertain I hop on any of the passing transits. That’s what I tell myself at least. Actually, I prefer the comfort of a shorter ride at the beginning of my day than a brisk walk. This way I don’t have to overheat, especially in the summer months with the humidity making things sticky. It’s too wet to smoke. I can see a bus coming, snaking its way towards me, stopping at a traffic light and falling in behind a yellow school bus which thankfully turns right. You don’t want to be stuck behind a school bus, they stop every four or five blocks along the way with lights flashing and stop sign out.

The terminal comes into view as we round the last corner. I notice the canopies intended to protect riders are not holding back the rain that drives in on an angle, making the concrete platforms wet and slick. The bus comes to a stop, but not before passengers start to move, several waiting at the door, bags and packages in hand, collected from seats where they held new riders at bay – forcing some to stand like myself. I am in no hurry and prefer to wait until someone lets me go ahead of them, feet shuffling in step with the person in front of me, eyes down for the inevitable step off. Turning, I cross paths with passengers entering the building as they move to other buses, other destinations. This is my stop. I will not be travelling further. I open my umbrella again and make my way across the bus lanes, heading for the street. Reaching the sidewalk I light a cigarette outside the no-smoking signs of the terminal. Once again I fall into step. Up ahead I can see City Hall. Business as usual.