cold

Okay, it's cold now. Not quite dangerous, but definitely cold. Toe-numbingly cold. Nose-numbingly cold. Don't-be-outside-for-more-than-ten-minutes cold. (And wear your long underwear!)

But here's the thing: I stepped out the door this morning around 10:30 under a gorgeous icy-blue sky and brilliant sunshine, and I said (out loud, to nobody in particular), "My god, it's beautiful!" (Then I inhaled and my nose hairs froze.) [pause] "...cold...but beautiful!" That's how I see it. Yes, eventually I notice it's cold. But the snow squeaks under my boots and the sun shines down (even if you don't know you're feeling it until you step into the shade) and the world is white and it sparkles and glitters (You know that department store window snow that's all sparkly? There's real snow that looks like that.) and when you inhale...well...you know you're really alive.

I'm so glad to be here. And yes, it's cold.

(PS: for the bean counters out there, "cold" last night was -46 Celsius with the wind chill, -30 C without. For the conversion impaired, that's almost -51 F with the windchill, -22 F without. Whee!)

sun

The sun is out! Now I know, to those of you in places like India and California that may mean nothing, but to those of us in colder, darker places, that means everything. The sun is out and the snow is sparkling and the air is warm (for sufficiently broad values of warm) and I'm listening to music which is really cool by a group called Sam Cooke. I'm not quite aligned with the theology, but I'm very forgiving about that sort of thing when the music moves me, which it does.

Sun and light are metaphors which are tricky because of that whole race-color-bright-light-dark-black-white linguistic thing. Personally I think we need to acknowledge that lots of people are afraid of the dark and that's why they use dark as a bad/scary metaphor and it has nothing to do with skin color. I know there are a lot of people who disagree with me and I've thought about it, but fear of what we cannot see (because it's not illuminated, for example) is a human thing. Fear of the unknown is also very human. The key is to manage the fear and keep our fears from hurting others as we work with and through them.

So I celebrate the presence and coming return of the sun. *smile*
Solstice is coming and thank goodness for that.

peaceful

I know the world isn't a peaceful place right now...but I was sitting at work looking at the trees in the parking lot. The sun was just coming out after quite a cloudy afternoon and the ice lining each branch was glittering just a little. Driving home was gorgeous, snow-laden limbs everywhere I looked and not too much grey snow to detract from it. Even when the sun won't come out, winter is beautiful here. I love the way the snow absorbs sound, too, so that everything is worlds quieter. I'm so glad to be living where it snows and the snow stays.

...and yes, I did have to shovel away the lump of snow left by the plow before I could get out of the driveway this morning. Even so.

moving

Well, I did it. Cancelled my old car insurance. I am now officially and completely paperworked into Canada. I have a lease, ownership and registration and insurance and licence plates for the car, a job, a paycheck, and a bank account. It feels a little sad and a little comfortable.

I also attended my first press conference. It was exhausting. I don't recommend them, unless you really liked forensics when you were in high school. Still, I'm glad I went. It's good practice for when I have to do that without an invitation from a strong, well-established organization to back me up. Let me just say I'm glad I don't have to be a journalist. I don't think I'm pushy or strong enough. They're kind of two sides of the same coin, I think. Still, I'm grateful that there are journalists, because they make it possible for us to know things without being everywhere at once.

That's what I think.

good(?) vibrations

My apartment is shaking. Not, I note, a little lightweight sort of shake. More like a vibrating bed in one of those motel rooms from when I was a kid, the kind that cost a quarter and then the whole bed jiggled back and forth. That kind of shaking. Sometimes it's more of a vibration. Sometimes it feels like a giant got frustrated and stomped her foot right next door. Really, it's just the construction on the museum across the street, but I think my stories are much more interesting. Today it's almost like sitting in a massage chair, only it's the whole building that's going.

I have two things to say. One: maybe I should charge admission.
Two: it's a good thing there's no crystal in this house.

I wonder what it's like for the people who work on the project. I also wonder when it will be done.

homesick

Homesickness can show up in funny ways, like talking about when stuff where you are reminds you of stuff where you used to be. I don't like to admit to homesickness much, but there it is, in amongst the breakfast dishes. The challenge is in speaking with balance and grace. I made at least one such mistake today.

May I have more self-awareness, more grace, more wisdom, less self-entanglement. May I keep silent more often, that my mouth will gather fewer feet. May I have more strength of character and less strength of voice. May I grow. May I learn. May I continue to be.

blessed be and amen.