Words from the Ocean

I want to write well.
No I want to write good, so good, that you fall off your seat
So that the words snake around your heart, clench it tight in their grasp
And pull your insides out, because parts of you are dripping all over my
Paper.  And I want you to feel the inside of my hands as they dance across
The keyboard attempting to form places and people and passions
But sometimes it doesn’t work. I have tried.  Sometimes it is impossible
To try and coax that fish out of green blue waters and all you are left with
Are waves and ripples going out in every direction but landing no-where.
When all I want, more than anything, is for the waves to crash against
Your shore.  Meeting you and letting you go, but never leaving.
I want to write the kind of words people remember in their deep conversations,
“Oh yeah, I read this poem once and it totally described how I feel.”  I love
So much when you can reach into someone’s soul, your own, but it’s as if you
Scooped water from the collective ocean and the saltiness on your lips
Isn’t there because you had to bend down and drink.  It’s there because it is
In everyone and to me that is the sheer beauty of being able to write.  Of setting
This free on paper, or traveling through the wires to reach you wherever you are
I imagine this golden beam from my heart to yours at night sometimes,
It lights up the cities on the way, and when it finally reaches you, my magical energy
It warms up your heart so that you melt inside.  That is what I want, a strange sort of
Microwave from Mars that transmits light in all directions, a magical pen that
Pours love and heartache onto pages so that maybe one day, maybe one ordinary day
When everything else had crumbled to dust, scattered away,
The essence was still there, what I tried to portray
Made shadows on the sidewalk,
Imprints of what I had to say.

Skydiving and (un)Broken Cities

 I sat on the edge of the plane struggling to breathe.  The freezing air was whipping in my face and the sheer terror of what I was about to do was finally beginning to sink in.  Then, I was falling, hurtling through space with my eyes wide open.   I could see the cerulean ocean, majestic mountains, patches of farms and blue lakes. When I sent in my application for Go Global I never anticipated seeing the world from such a unique perspective.  This is a story of how my exchange to New Zealand opened my eyes.

I was drawn to two little islands at the bottom of the Earth because of the outdoor opportunities, the kiwi accent, and an intangible voice that reached into my heart and insisted, “Pick me!”  I chose to live in Christchurch, the largest urban center on the South Island because it was centrally located for travelling and because I was interested in how the city was recovering from two massive earthquakes.  I was intrigued by stories of resilience.

On February 22, 2011 at 12:51pm a magnitude 6.3 earthquake struck Christchurch.  Over 180 people died and much of the city’s infrastructure was destroyed.  During my first week in New Zealand I visited Sumner, an oceanfront suburb of Christchurch severely affected by the earthquake.  On top of the cliffs I could see houses ripped in half, rooms and furniture taken down with the crumbling hills.  While exploring the city center I could feel an eerie silence filling empty lots of demolished buildings. Shipping containers held up buildings that were still collapsing.  In the residential red zone, remnants of family life lay scattered across ten thousand empty houses. 

Despite the destruction, the people of Christchurch demonstrated courage and resourcefulness. The University of Canterbury (where I studied abroad) is home to the world-famous Student Volunteer Army which mobilized thousands of students after the earthquakes to contribute to non-life threatening relief work.  A call center was set up and students shovelled tonnes of silt caused by liquefaction.  I took an inspiring class at UC called Christchurch 101 based around service learning.  We learned what kind of service is helpful, and our end of term project was establishing a community garden in a local neighbourhood.

Living in Christchurch taught me that a sense of community can be found in the most unlikely of places.  While attending a world music choir concert, I was spontaneously invited to a poetry slam.  In the sleepy suburb of New Brighton, everything was closed on a Saturday night except for a café teeming with 80 ukulele players jamming to old classics.  One evening, after chatting with me for half an hour, a lovely older couple invited me to see their baby goats in the spring. 

I am moved by the generosity and kindness pervasive in New Zealand.  This country is probably one of the last places on Earth where you can hitchhike.  The airport loudspeaker warns you to not let your children play on the escalator.  So many people I met expressed a reverence for the outdoors and an environmental consciousness.

I spent the last two months of my trip travelling around both islands.  It was during this time that I decided to go skydiving.  I found myself continually stunned by magnificent landscapes.  I hiked in an active volcano zone.  I jumped into frigid cold waterfalls.  I went eel fishing.  But despite all of these adventures, the lessons of community and resilience I learned while living in Christchurch continue to resonate.  Living in a city struggling to find its pulse was difficult at times, but taught me about myself and about life.  

The impacts of Go Global are far-reaching - I value certain things in Canada more, I want to travel more, my concept of education has widened, and I developed strong friendships. Whether you are contemplating travelling to a new country for a while, or sitting on the edge of a plane, I hope you keep your eyes open as you leap head first into a new adventure.

New Buildings and Lost Views

I am watching the construction workers install the third floor of a building that is conveniently going up right in front of our apartment.  The crane is swinging in the air and I am cringing.  Before the new building was going up, every night I would fall asleep to a valley of lights.  We always left our living room curtains open so we could see the glimmering beacons in the distance.  Now all of that will be gone.

The new construction is reminding me of a few universal truths.  1) Change is the only thing that is certain.  2) We get easily attached to the way we want things to be.  There is nothing I can do as I stare out the window except be mopey and miserable.  Or I could not be mopey and miserable. I can't halt the construction.  So alas, it is better to surrender.  It is better to witness the change and flow with it instead of resisting.  I know this truth intellectually, yet a part of me still mourns for a loss. Yes I was lucky to have a view in the first place, yes, the mountains are still there...yes, I can find things to be grateful for.

On another note, I've missed teaching yoga lately.  I'm still struggling to establish my daily practice but I usually fit yoga in most days.  I've realized that it is a huge passion of mine.  Sometimes it takes distance for us to realize what we truly care about.

In other news, I had a lovely break with my family.  I am endlessly grateful for their unconditional love and support. My family has taught me what love means.

I wrote an article for the student newspaper about my trip to New Zealand, I will post it right after this one.  I am feeling everything come full circle these days. I am feeling content overall, even as buildings block the view....I guess we can choose what to focus on - the view that remains or the view that is gone.