The Distance Between You and Me

I wasn't sure what was missing. Wasn't too sure why I wasn't writing, taking pictures. I chalked it up to being tired, recovering from the semester, getting long over due errands completed. Today I decided to go to the Vancouver Art Gallery instead of walking straight home from down town. It was also instead of going to the gym but we won't discuss that further here. I bought an annual membership when I moved here in the spring and haven't got as much use our of it as I wished. While previous exhibits had been interesting they didn't move me to inspiration. Today what I needed was peace and mystery and that is exactly what I was given.

As I slipped my earphones in and turned up Bon Iver  I wandered through Shore, Forest and Beyond. Art from the West Coast in all its representations. The hall smelled of cedar and each piece was at home against the dark blues and greens of the walls or contrasted against stark white. Walking from mask to mask, painting to painting and lingering over sculptures of whales and totems I was reminded of why I love art. Why I connect to this art in particular and what has been lacking in my life lately. I feel at home among bronze and wood sculptures, feet or inches away from oil and acrylic, surrounded by ink and paper. The works that brought me home have always been the same. My mum took me to a Group of 7 exhibit at the Glenbow when I couldn't have been much older than 10. I fell in love with the clean lines, the bold colours and my startling landscape. The work of Lawren Harris and Emily Carr are particularly important to me and when faced with one of Harris's painting today I was brought nearly to tears. It is the way my mind sees the peaks and lakes around me. Friends of mine had one of their own Emily Carr paintings. It is small, maybe 8x10, subtle in both composition and colour but last Christmas I stood awestruck in front of it for nearly half an hour.

These pieces and the photographs in other parts of the gallery reminded me of why I produce art, even of why I write. They remind me that risk and vulnerability and potentially awkward moments are often necessary for art to be created. At least good art. They also remind me that this is part of who I am. The west coast, the dark wood and tall mountains and deep green grey ocean. They remind me that taking the time to photograph and paint keep my spark. And I need that.

Beyond the beauty of the individual pieces I was also brought into the idea of the whole being greater than just the sum of the parts. Another exhibit is An Autobiography of Our Collection. What was striking to me was what was written on the wall. The words used to describe the exhibit.

" A collection is a group of objects assembled with particular intention. While each object alone has its own history, together the collection suggests narratives far greater than the sum of its parts. Collecting might itself be understood as an activity propelled by the essential human need to tell stories."

I connect with this idea of an essential human need to tell stories. It is what we do in every aspect of our lives and while it can sometimes lead us to get into trouble it is something that resonates with me to my very core. Words are good yes, but visuals, to be able to convey life or love or loss and heartbreak through something that can be understood in any language is truly remarkable.

Times like these

I often have surreal moments when I sit across from my best friend and her son over coffee. The people in my life are there for a reason. Always. The ones that have sharp influence on my life, really help to change and transform me, sometimes only stay for a short while, others who seem to have been around for everything stay. Each are wonderful and important and each are unique. She has been through it all, thick and thin. She has been there for moments of quick turn arounds and drawn out evolutions. At some point we started off in the same place and no matter how different our lives seem we always come back to it. We lead parallel lives on different paths... often at different speeds.

What is surreal about it all is that I look at her and I see a childhood best friend. I see the young woman that i learned how to drive standard with, that I watched Crossroads and ate twizzlers on the couch with when we broke up with high school boyfriends. And boyfriends after that. Nothing has changed except that I also see in her how different her life is than mine in these moments and how, in so many other ways it isn't. How we both wonder what to do with our education. Where will we live? How will we let go of where we came from? I also see how she is truly meant to be a mother and how her son loves her beyond words. He is also four months so he can't really use words, but that's beyond the point. Sometimes I am startled at how far life has brought us from when we used to sit at Starbucks on 17th guessing where we would be in 10 years, who would be the first to marry, where we would work, what we would do. 10 years later and we got most of it wrong. For the better.

Funny enough I was lucky to have dinner with another old friend tonight. One who the ease of familiarity comes back quickly. It was a stark reminder of how much has happened in the last two years. All the people who became the ones that I call when I'm in town or the ones who have drifted out of touch. All the nights out, all the stretchy pants, then when it all changed. It is so mysterious, who stays part of our lives and who doesn't. I have realized how picky I am and maybe it is because I am lazy, likely it is because I crave space and time to myself. I don't necessarily mean to pick the ones I do but perhaps that's the point. Maybe friends are more like family that we think and they pick us, we don't get to chose who comes into our lives and how long they stay. At least not 100%. That being said I am ever grateful for all of them. It is those around me who inspire me and teach me. The ones far away and the ones just down the street.

Not quite a white Christmas

Christmas and the holidays can be a hectic time. It is easy to get caught up in material things with intentions as pure as gold. We want to provide joy to others, brighten their day, ensure they don't feel left out. For me it is easy to try to be 'fair' to those around me. Not having one gift out shine the others, adding often unnecessary additions just to make up for another 'really awesome' gift I got someone else. This Christmas has been different. Where I used to be able to do all my gift shopping on the night of the 23rd, thanks to Chip for a generous discount at lululemon, this year things looked different. I am a student, with no income and limited at best savings. Where last year my family got hoodies and stretchy pants this year they received black and white printed photos or the gift of second hand fashion.

As we all sat around our slightly bigger than 600 sq foot condo this morning we came to a realization. Christmas was getting smaller each year and as the number of gifts and the square footage of where we celebrated seem to shrink we enjoyed them more and more. In the cramped quarters we were able to spend a lot of time with each other but it also drove us out to explore our city a little bit today. Walking along English Bay and through the West End we say not only a large sleepy owl not more than 10 feet away but also four or five large bald eagles circling above the beach. It was a wonderful and uniquely perfect day.

I am grateful for what has changed in my life since the Christmas before this one. What seemed important, whether for positive or negative, now seems to matter less. All the things I wished for seem to be happening. AND I got to spend my Christmas just the way I wanted. That is quite a gift!

It must find you working.

My favourite quote for times like these is

“Inspiration Does Exist, But It Must Find You Working.”

It is suited for these days when I have fallen so out of my routine of creativity. Instead of easily sitting down and writing out a few thousand words for a purpose of some sort I find my days more rejuvenating than interesting per say. But alas inspiration will not strike me like lightning out of a clear sky and must instead find me sitting town to write for it to flow freely.

What did strike me today came at the end. I was sitting in the lodge at our tiny local ski hill after chasing my father through trees and bumps and off tiny tiny cliffs for the better part of the afternoon. As I looked around me I was impressed and humbled by what I saw. The lodge at WhiteWater is truly the hub of a bustling little community. For a Tuesday afternoon I was shocked by who I saw. There were young teenage boys with boots slung over shoulders by the straps. Munching peanut butter sandwich half in their mouths and half in their hands with looks of pure stoke across their faces. There was an older lady, in her mid 70s who starred in an episode of Salomon freeski TV (check it out at the bottom!). She skis almost everyday and does it purely for the love of the sport and the outdoors in all this. I watched 2 little girls with hair still sun-bleached from summer on the lake chase a little boy around the lodge, he started it I promise. Sitting drinking my coffee and observing I felt like an outsider. Casually observing but not part of the bustle. Part of this was I was used to something different from my last few years on the slopes. Coming from big resorts it is about the so many other things. It is about the pros, about labels and brands, about the newest gear, the fastest lifts, the most gourmet lunches (no hill has anything on WhiteWater's kitchen). WhiteWater is about why so many of us ski. Good snow, good terrain, good people. 

Yes, it is no Whistler, they are 2 entirely different beasts. The lodge is just a great reminder of the importance of community and a place to gather. And of course, if you are a little girl with sun-bleached hair, a place to chase little boys around without your mum noticing. 

everlasting light

I was hoping I'd have more to write. To be honest by brain feels mostly empty for the first time in months. I went from going as hard as I could, even harder sometimes, to a dead halt. From 5 hours sleep max to 12 hours min. From takeout food to home cooked bliss. I am in shock and I am taking it out on my writing.

The bustle of school and city is easily other worlds from this place. I would like to say I have just transplanted to a small mountain time for some R and R but ... we live outside of town. If there was no big orange bridge across the lake we would be in the boonies, or at least be a lot more dependant on our canoe for groceries and such. My days are filled with less and less and I am taking the time to enjoy the nothing I am doing.

My creativity is allocated to activities that can be done in front of the TV while watching christmas movies. This comes primarily in the form of feather earring creations and photo editing. An exercise in using my hands but very rarely my brain. It is nice.

So that's it. I am embracing the relaxation, the slowness, the nothing. A lot of sunrises and sunsets with space between. In a few days it will be back to city living and I won't know what hit me.

Home is where ever I'm with you.

It's funny where life takes you.

For all my years and stubborn ways I always said I would end up in Calgary, that it was truly the only city I could ever live in. For my first months in Vancouver I dug my heels in hard, and when the topic of jobs and money came up Calgary seemed like the best, the only choice.

Being back, for a very very short time, did help me realize that yes, I love the city, but no, it's not as perfect as I made it out to be. The funny thing is, no where is. All that I held on to wasn't really there. Most of my friends have physically moved on. Many west, to Vancouver or the island. If they haven't left the city they have found new jobs, new lives. The routine we clung to in the spring no longer common place. There are still the old haunts and likely many new ones but that is the nice thing about change, it doesn't stop for anyone.

So that's it. It's a little scary but all so clear. I am without destination, as is usual, but also without a home base. Yes, Nelson, and my parents will be here but it is their life and community, I am just a periodic visitor. Vancouver is also a semi permanent home but without the people, without those crazy friends who support me through all my questionable and epic life decisions I am not sure it would feel like anything more than a tiny condo in the big city.

Instead of looking at this like a problem it is instead such an amazing and rare opportunity. Who knows where I will end up but the amazing thing is... it could be anywhere.

In addition I find myself, one week into a short 3 week break, already chomping at the bit. My body, and its desire to sleep 12 hours a day to make up for the minimal at best sleep I was getting during the last few months, craves this relaxation and slowness but my mind is racing. I want back at it, I want stimulation. I want  more.

Tomorrow perhaps.

Big Kootaney lake love.

In a big country dreams stay with you.

It's funny what happens when you realize  that so much of your ego got left behind. I will admit that in the hectic pace of the last few months I lost a lot. A lot of sleep, a lot of pens and pencils to my cavernous purse, a lot of hours on buses. I lost motivation to take care of myself and to stay in shape, as I am finding out the hard way today. What I also realized, sitting here at the base of a glacier, is that I have lost that little piece of me that cared so much what others thought. 

Where I use to be anxious about seeming less hardcore to stop for a mid morning coffee I am happy to sit here, warming up thoroughly frozen feet while Cadillac Ranch plays in the speakers reminding me why west is best. I am content to have the luxury, for a few weeks, to do exactly what I want. 

Being back in the mountains also reminds me what lights me up. It's hard not to feel alive here, adrenaline flowing, muscle memory waking up unused tissue. The sound and feel of boots clicking into bindings will always give me goosebumps. More so it is the space. I often feel claustrophobic in the city. It is amplified when my time is not my own. The last few days I can feel a lightness flowing through me, the nudges of creativity and my brain being used for something other than processing required business problems. It feels good and I am beginning to get a sense of how refreshed I will feel in a few weeks time.

All in all I am happy, excited to reconnect with friends and take the time to create new relationships. I am ever grateful for the time and space to do just that!