07/05/2010 § 1 Comment
Waking up in Port Perry, again. After a week of emotional slaps in the face, and psychological stress over “getting things done”, I needed another weekend of being taken care of: a lush double-bed, coffee made for me every morning, food in the fridge, clean spaces, a mom that will hug me, listen to my ranting and raving, even though it’s Mother’s Day, have a radio to listen to my long-lost love, Jian Ghomeshi.
How fortunate I am to have such an opportunity. To be able to get away, feel loved, relax, listen to the birds whistling through morning chill. I get to wake up and take my time, escape the reality of what it means to be independent living in the city, sip coffee and truly not think or worry about the things I need to do today.
Perhaps I have spoiled myself, living 6-months away without work, living the way I wanted. I escaped. If I truly didn’t want to think about something, I didn’t have to because I could go for a walk and pretend it never existed. The truth is, life kept going on. I like that it kept going on. It is more interesting to try and catch-up rather than already be up-to-date. At times like these, come stories. I love stories.
Port Perry is the place where I go to choose my path. I have come to a crossroads where I feel I have to be one of the persons that are battling within, even if it’s for a little while. It’s not as scary as I thought it sounded. There is one side of me that wants contentment and comfort, to stop, take a breath, and enjoy the simple things in life, to just write. The other side still wants adventure, not necessarily in travel, but in doing something, one who wants to stir something, a change, a big change.
Sitting here, writing and simultaneously talking with my mom, I realize that I can’t choose one person or the other to be — they are both part of my personality. It’s unfortunate that these two sides are such opposites. I think everyone experiences these internal battles. I can see it in most people’s eyes. Everyone is torn between being comfortable and expressing his or her potential.
Talking things through with my mom, I also realize that everyone is terrified of their true potential. With the actualization of one’s mind comes the heavy burden of creation, the responsibility of stepping out of the box and being abnormal. The fear of loneliness outside the box, where few people venture. However, as more and more people step outside the box, those within it, curious about the noise and clamour over the wall, tend to peak over and wonder what’s going on.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day I hope to feel comfortable living outside the box. Perhaps, one day, we will all be comfortable living outside the box, without the worry of where we ought to be going — a prescription for the path of happiness, built and perpetuated on the judgments of others. I am so lucky to have found and surround myself with good people who love one another just the way one another are. They let each other just be.
Anyways, for now, in this moment, all I want to do is read a Didion book that L lent me, Slouching Towards Bethlehem, listen to the radio, rest, and breathe.
Maybe one day, I will know how to channel these personalities at appropriate moments: the laid-back lady for her social moments — enjoying good people and good conversations — and saving the feisty ripple-disturber for political rallies and creations.
I need to find my scales. I need to find my balance. However, finding them means, first, finding peace in the moment and tranquility with myself, to internalize the serenity I feel in Port Perry and bring it with me to the big city.