Across the Atlantic we go

November 17, 2014

Sitting at Java U at the YUL airport (Pierre Elliot Trudeau) … ah that name… Trudeau, there is a lot of talk about Trudeau the son, who is running for the Liberal party, something his father did eons ago, Canada’s politics are frightening right now, with Harper grand standing in front of Putin, as if he had any weight to pull around… Mind you, his waist line really has weight… fat cat that he is… I always had a problem with politicians being too fat. It feels like they are plucking too many rewards… but anyways… I realize I am a tourist in my place of birth. Conversations show me that I have not really a clue as to what really goes on. My knowledge is one of first impressions, yeah, a tourist. I must listen much more than I speak. The visit was great. Seeing my family, which is a very small nucleus, but my nucleus nonetheless was a good thing. it’s never been so evident as it is now how much time has passed since I left. Everyone has grayed quite a bit and shrunk a little.

I don’t like to think of life in terms of time, age, accepted landmarks of human lives, this has too much the potential of stopping you dreaming, hoping, growing. The spirit is timeless, the moments are timeless. Love is timeless so I try to roam those roads instead of the too deeply carved highways of human existence as dictated by our societies. Of course there are inevitabilities, but I prefer the magic of not knowing, not predicting.

Snow this morning, I woke up seeing the white roof on the neighbor’s house, covered in snow and the calm that seems to envelop everything when the snow falls. I have a thought of delayed airplanes and missed connections but it will turn to rain I am told by the taxi driver who took me to the Metro station. He’s a man “d’un certain age” as he told me. ( of a certain age meaning older) he is gentle, drives carefully. He’s a bit dismayed by the amount of luggage I have, yeah, for one who likes to travel light (I am a caravan by myself right now, backpack, suitcase and gigantic guitar.) I twisted my back really badly two days ago and this task is daunting. He speaks to me of the weather, tells me of recently discussing with his wife of the fast coming of Christmas, 30 some days he says, he tells me how now it’s all about money. I can imagine him and a woman sitting quietly at a kitchen table somewhere, the temperature a bit too hot, drinking coffee in worn mugs and talking about the world going ’round around them. He helps me get the stuff out of the trunk, whish me well and I am on my way into the metro station.

Everything is going like clockwork, I’m actually a bit early here but it’s OK. My back throbs now as I write this. I need to get back to doing yoga and my meditations, that is the best remedy for everything…

I have launched into a journey that will take about 40 hours from door to door. I’m ready. In motion I am. See you on the other side.


One Response to “Across the Atlantic we go”

  1. Danielle Liard Says:

    Bon voyage la belle, c’était super de te voir.


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