tee hee - that rhymed;)

sailing on a serotonin sea

i totally forgot how much i like smoking pot.

gratitude

There is something about the first few sunny spring days that make you appreciate how you spend them. The streets seem be full of serotonin-filled folk, out and about, drinking in the sunshine and warmer air.

Bright shiny days like today are like that good friend you don't see very often. It's only when you get a chance to catch up and hang out that you remember how much you enjoy them, and realize how much fun you have when they're around.

Mind you, by mid-summer we're back to taking it all for granted and it isn't until those crisp September days are broken up by a bit of an Indian summer, that we're reminded once again to drink in the experience before it's gone for another season.

A pair of tickets

Last night, feeling completely sorry for myself, I wept like a moron in my salad.

Over a pair of tickets for "Hair" no less.

You see, I knew the inevitable.

Flipping through my mental black book of the single male friends i used to call on for events like these, I sadly realized what i have known for a while...all my back up 'boy'friends now have their own pair.

So I did what any *sane* single girl would do - I gave away the tickets and opted for stripercize class, choosing to find my inner britney spears instead.

The Experiment

After some further thought and a few online chats with dating boneheads - I am seriously debating conducting a bit of an experiment about whether you can judge and stereotype lavamen. Please note, my methodology and experiment framework may be a bit dodgey. I'm relying on what i can remember from grade 10 science.

Question:
Can you judge a 'book' by its cover?

Hypothesis:
A resounding yes.

Experiment Description:
1. Arrange dates with a series of lavamen whose picture & bio present a pretty obvious stereotype . For example:

• artsy freak
• musclehead jock
• bay street banker
• small town hick
• ....I would need some help coming up with the rest

2. Develop a profile of what I think said lavalite would say/believe/do based on this 'stereotype'.

3. Go on dates with lavalites

4. Provide my analysis and conclusion about whether you can, and should in fact, judge a book by its cover.

Now I seem to recall there being variables you need to control and that whole need to repeat to ensure validity and such...

hmmm.

ya, maybe this isn't such a good idea..I now remember why i didn't pursue that whole science thing.

what's new?

Called C, the ex, to wish him a happy birthday - one of those 'do I/don't I' type things that typically ends up with me doing it and then later regretting whatever the it, or whoever the it happened to be;)

It wasn't a long convo but the inevitable Q, "what's new?", came up. After I mumbled on about job news followed by a comment of 'everything else is same old same old", his response to the same Q was less informative but all the more interesting.

He commented how it's hard to describe what's new during a brief interaction when nothing surface is really different, yet given some time to examine and talk, the nuances and minute shifts seem to unfold.

This struck a chord with me. Often when speaking with friends I haven't seen/talked to in a while, I'm always a bit bothered by my response 'not much, same old same old' because there isn't really anything material/concrete seemingly worth giving comment to -

yet inside something never sits right with me when I utter those words.

Because there is a lot new.

No, I don't have a new car, new home, new job, new pet, my family is the same and so are most of the people around me, but since finally getting hit over the head by reality last year, so much is always new, ever changing and different. And even when i'm cycling back through old patterns/feelings and emotions, it's still new because my interaction with those feelings is completely different.

I guess the 'what's new' chats about new homes, relationships, cars, pets, babies, jobs, family are necessary, but after you've heard about the size of the lot, number of bedrooms or what they're going to do to the backyard - it's funny how often the discussion ends there, because really, it's the reasons, reactions and emotions behind these new things that is most interesting and reflective of the real changes within.

circus school

I discovered this little treat walking home from work last summer via a new route http://www.torontocircus.com/index.php

Got all excited about discovering my inner acrobat but once i saw the price, quickly got over the awe of the idea. That is until I walked by it once again this week and got all sparked yet again. Perhaps I will sign up for the trapeze class, if only to figure out how to get me comfortable with that "space in between"....

warning, the following hit you over the head metaphor is a long one..but worth it I think.

Fear of Transformation
From The Essene Book of Days by Danaan Parry

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I'm hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while, as I'm merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It's empty, and I know, in that place that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness going to get me. In my heart-of-hearts I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present, well known bar to move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me, I hope (no, I pray) that I won't have to grab the new one. But in my knowing place I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar, and for some moment in time hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar. Each time I am filled with terror. It doesn't matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing, I have always made it. Each time I am afraid I will miss, that I will be crushed on the unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars. But I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of "the past is gone, the future is not yet here." It's called transition. I have come to believe that it is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a "no-thing", a no-place between places. Sure the old trapeze-bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real too. But the void in between? That's just a scary, confusing, disorienting "nowhere" that must be gotten through as fast as unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid, where the real change, the real growth occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to "hang- out" in the transition between trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly.

reverse flush

i spent 8 months in australia and never once noticed that the water flowed counter clockwise as it sailed down the sink...

my darling friend M, who i lived with, learned and continue to learn much from, wrote me the other day talking about the wonderfulness of autumn and "the way it changes your pace and way of being/doing - an inbuilt cycle of change to keep a sense of movement and interest."

Here, in Canada, when I'm desperately hoping for an early spring and a very very long summer...i was struck how upside down it all is. M entering fall/winter, my typical time of hibernation and self reflection, while I gleefully cheer in spring...the anticipation building for the days where I find that I live a little louder and more outside of myself...

I miss M, I miss australia but most of all...i kinda miss not noticing which way the water flows.