I love senior citizens. Those one's who are just looking for somebody to brighten their day, so they will sit around and wait for somebody to talk to them on a park bench - not really doing anything but looking. Walking for a bit, maybe. I love how, even though their skin sags and the wrinkles remove every hint of emotion other than a presumed longing, the moment that they are wakened into joy (of any degree) every single pore of skin, including those hiding from the sun in the darkness of the wrinkles, is bright and dancing and beaming and joyful in an absolutely beautiful way. The laugh that accompanies this is either silent or so hearty that one cannot help but to smile - and you do. Because senior citizens, our sources of wisdom and love and curmudgeonry (on the off days), are things worth loving, appreciating.
And my grandma is one of the best.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Things I love. (22)
Stars. Glowing orbs in the sky, contorting into shapes that don't really resemble anything but our imaginations. And doing this with absolute and total beauty. The milky way racing across the sky as though being dragged by the great horses of Apollo, crashing into the terran absolute on both sides into the great invisible that is the other side. Galaxies, distant and hazy and almost impossible make out with the naked eye - worlds to discover and explore.
I love the night sky. Everything that it contains. The darkness - the brightness - the darkness. Orion's belt (in winter) and the wings of Cygnus (in summer).
It makes you feel small. And young. And child-like. So much to see and explore and see again because you aren't sure you've seen it before. And just as it all starts to make sense you get the sensation that you may be on a large ship in the middle of the ocean, star chart in hand, baffled - trying to make it line up to figure out where on this god-forsaken planet you are. And where you need to be.
It is as though the stars contain all the wonders and dangers of life while also being the metaphor for it.
I love the night sky. Everything that it contains. The darkness - the brightness - the darkness. Orion's belt (in winter) and the wings of Cygnus (in summer).
It makes you feel small. And young. And child-like. So much to see and explore and see again because you aren't sure you've seen it before. And just as it all starts to make sense you get the sensation that you may be on a large ship in the middle of the ocean, star chart in hand, baffled - trying to make it line up to figure out where on this god-forsaken planet you are. And where you need to be.
It is as though the stars contain all the wonders and dangers of life while also being the metaphor for it.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Things I love. (21)
I love dancing. I have a theory that dancing is complete freedom, something that people always say when tearing up on "So You Think You Can Dance" about how dancing defines them. Oh! how I believe them. Ever since Leanne Womack's "I Hope You Dance" came out, I wanted to dance and dance and dance.
While dancing, I love the feeling of rhythm, the feeling of exhaustion, the refusal to leave the dance floor because the song being played is so fantastic. And then refusing with the next song because it is equally fantastic. I love the way your body collapses once you leave the dance-floor, tired beyond tired and wanting nothing more than rest - all the while knowing that in another 5 minutes you'll be back on the dance floor for more - where, just as before, you will mouth along to all the songs you know and dance to the one's you don't (mostly those from Europe) until you've figured out the words.
I hate how the morning after your ears are not quite right. They ringringringringring. But this is a case of when the means totally justify the ends.
Also, ballroom dancing is a total joy.
While dancing, I love the feeling of rhythm, the feeling of exhaustion, the refusal to leave the dance floor because the song being played is so fantastic. And then refusing with the next song because it is equally fantastic. I love the way your body collapses once you leave the dance-floor, tired beyond tired and wanting nothing more than rest - all the while knowing that in another 5 minutes you'll be back on the dance floor for more - where, just as before, you will mouth along to all the songs you know and dance to the one's you don't (mostly those from Europe) until you've figured out the words.
I hate how the morning after your ears are not quite right. They ringringringringring. But this is a case of when the means totally justify the ends.
Also, ballroom dancing is a total joy.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Things I love. (20)
I love soccer. Really, any team sport will do. But soccer is unique. Something about the experience of using one's feet to make magic happen - a game where you always have to use your team-mates and cannot manage on your own. It is a game where you have to perform at your peak at all times, using ever ounce of athleticism in your body to ensure you are not letting your team down.
And it is a game where goals are so rare that getting one, and winning as a result, feels like a real accomplishment.
Soccer truly is the beautiful game.
And it is a game where goals are so rare that getting one, and winning as a result, feels like a real accomplishment.
Soccer truly is the beautiful game.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Things I love. (19)
I love nudity. Or, to be more specific, I love being naked. Even being nearly naked is wonderful - but being naked is a truly wonderful experience. Not because I claim to be a particularly beautiful person or because I like to look at other people being naked but because there is something about the feeling of being naked that is refreshing.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Things I love. (18)
Like all people who have been raised in the Canadian Prairies, I bear one love/hate sensation that returns every year for at least 5 months. Personally, this relationship is mostly defined by love.
I love snow.
I hate it when it first arrives, but it grows on me throughout the season - until it is, at this point, absolutely stunning. To the point that I forget what grass looks like until it finally breaks through its white prison cell in April or May. I love the way it sounds beneath your feet as you walk through a field of fresh sparkling crystals, and the way that it absorbs sound. The world becomes still, covered in a blanket, slumbering. Beautiful in its sleep.
I love the promise of snow-shoeing, and cross-country skiing, and skating, and sledding, and watching hockey, and walking around town the see the ice sculptures, and attending winter festivals, and drinking at an ice bar, and curling (and just watching curling with my grandmother), and making forts with my god children (please never let them age, for my sake). I love the memory of making piles of snowballs to throw that some unsuspecting victim - hiding the pile in my backyard for just the moment when I will unleash my terror on my neighbour or my mother.
When there is snow on the ground, there is a reason to be outside.
I love snow.
I hate it when it first arrives, but it grows on me throughout the season - until it is, at this point, absolutely stunning. To the point that I forget what grass looks like until it finally breaks through its white prison cell in April or May. I love the way it sounds beneath your feet as you walk through a field of fresh sparkling crystals, and the way that it absorbs sound. The world becomes still, covered in a blanket, slumbering. Beautiful in its sleep.
I love the promise of snow-shoeing, and cross-country skiing, and skating, and sledding, and watching hockey, and walking around town the see the ice sculptures, and attending winter festivals, and drinking at an ice bar, and curling (and just watching curling with my grandmother), and making forts with my god children (please never let them age, for my sake). I love the memory of making piles of snowballs to throw that some unsuspecting victim - hiding the pile in my backyard for just the moment when I will unleash my terror on my neighbour or my mother.
When there is snow on the ground, there is a reason to be outside.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Things I love. (17)
Dogs. I love dogs. I always have - but my love grew exponentially when, at the age of eight, a new neighbour moved into a house down the street and brought with her a pack of Golden Retrievers and a recently born litter of pups. What absolutely stunning animals they were. For weeks I watched them through the chain-linked fence, and then she invited me in to play with them and handle the 3 week old scrunch-faced animals with care, and then (years later) she invited me to house and dog sit for her. And now her children are my godchildren (though this is really tangential to my love of dogs).
My own dog is blind and deaf, and aging rapidly (as is expected of animals you have loved for fourteen years), and I don't expect him to see another Christmas. But I love him too - there is nothing like sitting on the stairs of my house in the summer, with the light of the window beaming through the stained glass art that my father delicately constructed and dancing is shades of amber and gold on the hardwood floor below. I will sit there, read a book in one hand and pet him with the other. And he will lie - contented. For hours. I miss him more than anything else at home when I am away. He may actually be my best friend.
My own dog is blind and deaf, and aging rapidly (as is expected of animals you have loved for fourteen years), and I don't expect him to see another Christmas. But I love him too - there is nothing like sitting on the stairs of my house in the summer, with the light of the window beaming through the stained glass art that my father delicately constructed and dancing is shades of amber and gold on the hardwood floor below. I will sit there, read a book in one hand and pet him with the other. And he will lie - contented. For hours. I miss him more than anything else at home when I am away. He may actually be my best friend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)