Thank You and Goodnight

Writing this blog has been a wonderful, creative experience for me.   I’ve met amazing people, people who have bona fide writing talent, and who’ve been generous in sharing their passions.   Every single person who has left their heartprint here at Ain’t Life Strange in the form of comments has done so with either humour, caring, curiosity, or  sometimes all three!  One thing for sure is that your comments, dear Reader, have always been positive and genuine.  And to you, dear Reader, who flew in under the radar, I appreciate your visits and felt your support, even if you shied away from leaving your heartprint for all the blogworld to see. 

This is going to be my last post here at Ain’t Life Strange.    For a while.   I say for a while, because letting go is so hard, and I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.   Maybe this is a hiatus.  Maybe I’ll resurface one day under a new blog with a different slant than this one.  When I do, I’ll be sure to link them so that I can find you again, dear Reader. 

In the meantime,  I welcome you to read the archives of my thoughts about my life over the past few years, and to leave your comments as you wish.   It will warm my heart to know that you’re still there, dear Reader, and I most certainly will respond to any heartprint that you leave here at Ain’t Life Strange.

It’s not goodbye, just goodnight……

 

 

Love,

Chantal xoxoxoxox

Billy Bob: Take Off, Eh?

Note to you, dear reader:  When I started this post at around 9pm, the interview was on YouTube, I uploaded it on my post so that you could see it.  I’m double-checking it as I always do before I publish a post, and lo and behold, at 11:15pm, YouTube states that “We’re sorry, this video is no longer available”.   ISN’T THAT CONVENIENT?!?  I’m thinking SOMEbody has his hillbilly knickers in a knot…… I’ll give you the link anyways, in case it miraculously becomes available, but if it doesn’t load after 30 seconds, you know something’s up:   

UPDATE AS OF April 9 at 7:00AM:  THE LINK TO THE INTERVIEW NOW WORKS JUST FINE   SO GO AHEAD AND CLICK ON IT FOR THE FULL EFFECT:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJWS6qyy7bw

I found this unofficial but excellent version of the interview’s transcript, which might help put things into context for you (and this blogger is pretty interesting, too!): 

http://rankin-inlet.blogspot.com/2009/04/almost-complete-transcript-of-billy-bob.html

However you read this, it’s up to you……So here we go, with a one and a two and a one two three four:

Billy Bob Thornton says Canadians are mashed potatoes without the gravy.  Canadians are very open-minded about their music, but I’d be surprised if The Boxmasters succeed to turn ”gravy-less” bland, unresponsive Canadian concert-goers on to their brand of music after Mr. Thornton’s less-than stellar interview.   I was embarrassed for his band members, who seemed to genuinely want to talk about their music.   Watching the interview, you could tell that they knew what was coming, they could see the top of Billy Bob’s head about to explode.  These are three grown men used to cleaning up after one big baby’s hissy fits.   Kind of sad and painful to watch.  Maybe they’ll consider dumping His Royal Arse and continue their musical journey on their own while gaining the respect of their peers and some fans along the way.

Much will be written about this, much already has.   Here’s my two-cents.

 BBT is a legend in his own pot-polluted mind.    Kudos to Jian Ghomeshi who, in typical Canadian fashion, showed class throughout the  interview and even treated King Billy Bob with respect that wasn’t earned.    The deal that BBT made with the producers of Q was that there were to be no questions about Mr. OscarWeiner’s film career (only primadonnas “give instructions”; real hard-working, touring musicians are more than happy to talk about their music and their achievements to everyone who will listen).  And not once did the host of Q ask him anything remotely connected to movies or films or anything he had done in the past.  All his questions had to do with music, with the band, with his musical influences.   Standard questions that are asked of anyone who is relatively new (which the Boxmasters are), questions that let the audience discover a little more.   To these questions,  Petulant Thorn-ton answered with the same “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  As a means of introduction and to put it all into context, the host mentioned that BBT was an actor (Oh horror) and that music was always a priority for him, that the other stuff was something that sidetracked his musical aspirations.  You can see DivaBob rolling his eyes, with his mouth hanging open, ready to sling-blade whatever gets in his way next.   

Mr. Thornton, did you really think that your band would get on the radio up here or anywhere for that matter,  if you hadn’t been Billy Bob Thornton-award-winning-actor-screenwriter?   And to be quite honest, Mr. HeadStuckUpMyArse, no one outside Arkansas has heard of the Boxmasters, so isn’t the point of touring & doing radio interviews to get people to listen to and appreciate your music?   

Egos are a funny thing (in the funny-weird way), and celebrity egos are even funnier (in the funny haha way).   Billy Bob was being a billy bob, when he actually thought that he’s as musically relevant as Tom Petty.    Tell me, quick quick, when I say Tom Petty, what’s the first thing that comes to mind, eh?  I have at least 12 songs playing back-to-back in my head, enhanced by the images of album covers and concert footage I’ve seen since I was ten.  Over THIRTY years’ worth.     

Good, okay, now….tell me, quick quick, when I say the Boxmasters, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?  

……………………….

Did you draw that blank or did I?  Exactly.   Next week, no one will care about or remember who these guys are.   The Boxmasters are here in Canada to promote their 3rd CD, opening for Willie Nelson (who couldn’t get Jessica Simpson to open for him…nuff said) at several venues in Ontario.  Judging by this interview, and by the lame comments about Canada that “Bud” posts on their touring blog, I’m guessing that they’ll remain a blank entry in the collective consciousness of music-lovers. 

Take off, eh?

Chantal xoxoxoxo

None Shall Sleep Tonight

I know my dreams may be of interest only to myself, but I had to write about something soon before I completely lost my courage to write. 

On the night before Christmas Eve, I dreamt I gave birth to a baby, in a strange house, with a midwife.  In my real life, I actually did give birth to my children at home with midwives.  But in my dream, I was at the age I am now (almost 42), re-married like I am now, and I was telling the midwife that this experience of giving birth was different from my other two (yeah, no kidding).  First, I told her, I didn’t have the people there that I wanted; I was alone with the midwife, no children, no husband….I didn’t dream  the actual giving birth part,  just afterwards.  I didn’t see my baby, it was taken somewhere, and I was waiting for it, in the room I gave birth in.  I was straightening out the bed, the things on the dresser….the midwife seemed distracted, worried about getting back to her family in time, she was mostly packing up her gear, not really taking care of me.  At one point, there was a woman from my work who was there, then she left.   Then alot of drunk people were in my room,  and I was shooing them away, they were trying to sit on my bed and I was moving them out the patio doors into the early evening, telling them I couldn’t have them being here, drunk and lighting up cigarettes, when my baby was going to be brought back any minute.  I found myself walking outside, with the idea of going to get my baby, but there was water water water everywhere, as if there had just been a flood or a huge rainstorm.  I was acutely aware of the colour yellow, as if everything was yellow.   A woman with short blond hair told me to wait, she was going to get her car and help me.  But I didn’t wait, I turned back and returned to the room, where the midwife was.  I didn’t know why I was waiting for my baby, why I didn’t have it with me.   When I returned, my son, P was sitting there with his father (my ex-husband), and apparently they had seen the baby and spent time with it.  I thought it would have been a girl, and I wanted to name her Maria, but they said it was a boy, and I was glad, but couldn’t think up a name for him. 

Throughout the dream, I was waiting for my baby, who wasn’t coming….I never saw the baby.  I don’t know what this means.  I was disturbed when I woke, I didn’t tell my husband (who loves to hear about my dreams, as he seems to think I have such vivid recollections), and I felt strange all morning, until I got home on Christmas Eve day after work, and my husband  and I spent the afternoon preparing to welcome the kids for Christmas Eve.

I know the obvious reasons for dreaming this dream right before  Christmas Eve, on the night we celebrate Christ’s birth.  Also, I know how sometimes, things that happen during the day serve as triggers for what you dream about at night.  On the day before Christmas Eve, I was driving around, doing last-minute errands, and was overcome with these strong feelings of  wanting to have a child with my husband, and burst into this weird, hormonal tear-fest in the car.    Before you jump to any conclusions, I am very happy with my two children, and will not be having any more.  I know that these are normal feelings to have for someone you love, to want to create a life with them.  Except holy mack, in that moment, I REALLY felt this surge of complete & pure love, it was this primal need and deep desire to have a child with this wonderful, generous man who has fearlessly taken me on to be his true companion. 

So it’s no wonder I dreamed what I did….except it’s the baby part I’m not getting, why was the baby taken away, why didn’t I get to see it, why was I waiting waiting waiting, why wasn’t it returned to me?   Maybe the baby was a symbol for something else in my life, something that’s gone now, some vulnerability that I’ve lost.    If you lose your vulnerability, it stands to reason that you gain strength of some sort.  Being vulnerable like a baby is being unprotected, open to being wounded and hurt, physically or emotionally.   It’s interesting that the verb vuln comes from vulnerable, and means to wound oneself by biting at the breast, and that the pelican (of whom it was believed to  feed its young with its blood by vulning itself) is a symbol of Christ. 

This is not making alot of sense, I know, but the more I think, the more I reflect, the more these ideas take shape in my heart….in my faith….. in my attempts at trying to translate my love into actions…. in trying to capture or re-capture my essence, which I feel has been knocked off its kilter.   

The past few months, I’ve been adjusting  to life with my new husband, to life with my children with my new husband, to parenting a pre-teen-going-on-25,  to finding the confidence I need to fit into this world once I’ve figured out where I fit into this world.

None Shall Sleep Tonight is the English translation of  Nessun Dorma, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0Sx5lbVlQA),  Puccini’s aria in Turandot, which is my favourite.  It never fails to thrill  and inspire me everytime I hear it.  (For more inspiration and making dreams come true, see this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA&feature=related ).  As I’m writing this, I have my iTunes on shuffle, and Chris Botti is playing a beautiful rendition of Nessun Dorma on his trumpet (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exfNMsUm7Nk).  I reflect on my baby dream and these lyrics from an opera written nearly 80 years ago, a reminder that nighttime thoughts and dreams are revealed at daybreak, when the light shines.

 

Love,

Chantal xoxox

‘Cause You Never Know

There is a song by Tom Cochrane http://www.tomcochrane.com/index.htm that every hockey parent sings in their heart when they watch their kid play hockey,  I’m sure of it.   The song is called Big League, from way back in 1988 (can you believe it?  That’s 20 years ago……).    It’s actually a sad song, because it sings of a parent who had big dreams for his son who’s life was cut short by a car accident.   The basic, simple message is found in the ending lyrics:  You never can tell what might come down……so do right to others like you do to yourself in the Big League…..

But this is not a sad-song post.  The song itself is rousing and whenever I play it, it must be played loud & sung at the top of my lungs.

The song resonates with Canadians, because it’s written & sung by a Canadian artist (who is one of my favourites, such a favourite that I saw him in concert, twice…..he’s currently on tour across Canada with  John Mellencamp), and because it speaks of something so familiar to all of us (that familiar something being hockey).    We can recognize ourselves or someone we know in that song:  

The little runny-nosed kid at the rink who gets off last. 

The older brother who bangs a tennis ball against the wall with his hockey stick in the basement for hours, to the general annoyance of the rest of the family. 

The little TimBit who can manage to stand on her skates while holding her stick and pushing off into a semi-glide on the ice.  

The gangly teenager with the cracking voice, jostling with his teammates on the ice, showing off for the girls at the other end of the rink who are doing their best to ignore him. 

The coach in the novice division who believes in fair play and sends his team’s goalie to the other side when the other team’s goalie is hurt & can’t finish the game.  

The mother who hurries behind her two kids, arms full with purse, hockey sticks and treats for the team, a beaming smile as she makes her way to the dressing room to help them lace up. 

The father who can’t sit to watch his son play, he must stand by the boards, his hands in his pockets, watching his boy, wanting to be as close to him as he possibly can.  

The tired but oh-so-happy kid (of any age) trudging back to the car after a hard skate, hockey bag in tow, his head full of glorious hockey dreams…….

And then there’s me, First Year Hockey Mom, who finds herself watching her boy play hockey & talks to him (even though he can’t hear her), gives him pointers (like she knows what she’s doing), urges him to skate, P, skate……go, go in the corner, go get the puck…..that’s it!  Keep your eye on the play!……   She realizes she’s not the only one who does this; other parents talk to their kids on the ice, too, not shouting or anything, they’re just talking in a normal voice (except when a rush is on, then they cheer loudly).   And no one thinks she’s crazy for doing this, no one gives her strange looks; in fact, people give each other smiles of recognition at overhearing another parent’s verbal telepathy ( I know, verbal telepathy is kind of an oxymoron).

First Year Hockey Mom pauses in her conversations with others when her boy is on the ice.  She must watch & concentrate and send him good vibes, so that he knows that she’s focused on him when he’s on.   Of course this is silly, but she can’t watch her boy play & pay attention to someone else’s chatter.  It detracts from the sheer pride she feels at seeing her little guy try his hardest, playing smart, watching his offsides, and keeping his stick on the ice when he’s in front of the net, cause you never know……. (Never can tell what might come down    Never can tell how much you get
Just don’t know, no you never can tell……)

So Sunday, December 23, 2007,  P’s team was winning by a large margin (they stop counting goals after 5 if the other team hasn’t scored).  This was a good opportunity for the coach to mix the line-ups, to rotate the players into different positions, giving them a little experience playing right wing or defence or whatever.  P usually plays defence, but in the last 2 minutes of the game, the coach told him to go center.  I was sitting behind the bench and heard his coach tell him to stay in front of the net & to keep his stick on the ice, cause you never know……(Never can tell what might come down          Never can tell how much you get    Just don’t know, no you never can tell……)

I watch as my boy faces off against the other team’s centerman, there’s jostling for the puck, the play moves close to the other team’s net…..P skates in front….everyone is cheering because there are a few missed chances…..P is still in front of the net, his stick on the ice……people are all excited……First Year Hockey Mom is kind of NOT sitting in her seat anymore, her eyes are peeled, she’s clapping rapidly and making little oooing and eeeing sounds…..The coach is signalling to P to stay there, everyone’s yelling as the puck is picked up by P’s teammate, who passes it to P’s waiting stick.  P in turn tips the puck towards the net……and the puck goes in……the puck goes in!  

My ears feel muffled from the cheers coming from the bench, from the parents all around me, and I realize I’ve jumped out of my seat in public, I’m clapping, I’m teary-eyed….My daughter, who is usually too cool to cheer at hockey games, is jumping up with me and cheering for her little brother!  The excitement is pure, and that’s when I heard it, loud and clear in my heart:

My boy’s gonna play in the Big League
My boy’s gonna turn some heads
My boy’s gonna play in the Big League
My boy’s gonna knock ‘em dead!

I look at P’s father, my ex-husband, and we smile at each other, no words exchanged, just smiles of pride.   P’s father had his own hockey dreams dashed by injury, and I know that in that moment, he’s never felt prouder to be a dad. 

The game ended a few seconds later, we made our way to the dressing room, and into a sea of smelly, sweaty happy kids, with their parents helping to tug off jerseys & unlace skates.  The coach had retrieved the puck from the net for P, stood up on a bench & announced:  “Everybody, this is a big day, you guys played really hard and worked together as a team.  But today, P also scored his FIRST GOAL EVER!  Three cheers for P!”   My boy was smiling so much he started to giggle, and proudly shook his coach’s hand as he accepted his first-goal puck.   

What happened next only sweetened the whole feeling of that day.  My son took a bag of little chocolate NASCAR race cars that we bought, and slowly made his way around the dressing room, and to each of his teammates he handed two chocolates and wished them a Merry Christmas.  For a shy, eight-year-old kid, seeing him give this little gesture of thanks to his peers meant just as much as seeing him score his first goal. 

And then I heard it again, quietly this time, almost like a prayer of gratitude: 

Never can tell what might come down
Never can tell when you might check out
Just don’t know, no you never can tell
So do right to others like you do to yourself
In the Big League

 

 Love,

Chantal xoxoxo

 

It’s Easy If You Try

I was 13 when he died.  I had just purchased the Double Fantasy album.  I love that album, the cover photos, the songs……I found Yoko’s songs a little different, but I tried to get into them anyways because I loved him like a lovesick puppy, and if he loved her, then I could get used to her songs…. so it was easy.   I was drawn to the album itself, because it was like a family love-in, he would sing, she would sing, he sang about their child…..there was love, forgiveness, joy, passion, taking turns caring for each other, sadness, pain…..real life set to music.  

Prior to that, I had read all the books the library had on him, on the Beatles.  In the years since, my Lennon CD collection has grown, and I often go back and read the books I have about him, about his music.   A few months ago, I watched The U.S. vs. John Lennon.    Although I didn’t find I learned anything really earth-shattering about that period of his life that I hadn’t read elsewhere, two things really struck me about that documentary:

One was his complete love and devotion to Yoko.  How had I missed this?   I hadn’t really, but for some reason, I was touched by how it came shining through in that documentary, and as I listened to her talk about him, as I watched images of them together, how he appeared attentive and how you could just see his love for her, it was a small, quiet revelation.  And yet I had seen images of them before, but for some reason, in this documentary dealing with his possible deportation, his love for her came off as a grounding force for him in his life.  Which is what love should be…..

The other thing was his innocence and passion in living what he truly believed in.  He was outspoken and impulsive, and he had a beautiful mind.  The man was not a pretentious celebrity seeking notoriety.   When I think of him, I don’t think of big houses, fancy cars, clothes that cost more than the average joe’s yearly salary……..When I think of John Lennon, I think of him playing his music, writing his songs, writing poetry and books, being with his family,  finding ways to spread peace.  He was like the rest of us, living and struggling and wanting a better world. 

For him, it was simple:  War is over if you want it.   It’s not hard to love one another.  If we get together, we can make it a reality.  It’s easy if you try…..

 

John Lennon

 

 

 

It’s Here!

And I have my hot little hands on it!   For a most excellent review of the Foo’s latest, go see http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/aznightbuzz/202774. 

Life is good. 

(added to Thoreau’s Got the Beat page in sidebar).

Love, Chantal xoxoxo

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!

My childhood friend, Deborah M and I, were big Bay City Rollers fans. 

 

 We had plaid everything, jeans with plaid cuffs, plaid bookmarks, plaid sashes that we only wore while we sang into our hairbrushes, posters of Leslie, Derek, Alan, Woody & Eric on our bedroom walls, we collected all of their albums, we talked endlessly about which Bay City Roller we would marry (she being the Alpha female of the two of us, had dibs on lead singer Leslie…..which was okay because I was partial to Woody…..then again Eric was kinda cute).  Deborah actually got to go to a real live Bay City Rollers concert in Toronto with her mom.   My dad politely said no to my request to tag along with Deborah & her mom to the biggest concert that would ever happen in my lifetime (an 11-year-old’s lifetime is not the same as your & my lifetime). 

Anyhow, Deborah & I  talked on & on about their songs and  who we thought they wrote them for, and did Ian joining the band have anything to do with them breaking up later?  We played their songs over & over, we had sleepover theme nights, where we would dress in all of our plaidness, and sing to every single song on every single album.   Then, Deborah M’s mother would come into her room and beg us to please please stop the music & go to bed.  So we would, and lie there in the dark, pondering life’s big questions:   Does it hurt when you have your period?  Who do you think Jamie the cool boy REALLY likes?  Do you get what Mrs. Hall is talking about in Health class?  What’s it like to have a stepdad? Are we helping your mom make pickles tomorrow?  I wish my mom would let me wear lip gloss.  What do you think grade 7 will be like?  Will you sit with me on the bus on Monday?  Pierre said that I didn’t need to wear a bra…..do you think I need to wear a bra? 

This was how I spent many a Saturday night with my best friend when I was in grade six.  Now, 30 or so years later, I discover that I’m spending my Saturday nights with my blog pondering the big questions, and that my blogfriends are ALSO spending their Saturday nights posting & pondering the big questions, too!

We need to get out more…….

Love, Chantal xoxoxox

Let the Moon Reach For You…..

I picked up this CD (www.deborahcox.com)  (warning: music will play) at the library last week; at first, I saw the title “Destination Moon”, and thought: Hey! A Dinah Washington CD….then I saw it was by Deborah Cox, whom I thought was more of a pop-divaesque kind of singer, and whom I had never really listened to before.   So I checked the CD out, and I’ve been listening to it all week.    

I love tribute albums, covers of songs, I love how a musician or singer can take someone else’s material and add a part of themselves to it.   Especially when an artist chooses to re-interpret a song that has been pigeon-holed in the public’s mind in a certain category and is different from what the artist is usually associated with.   Like Johnny Cash doing Hurt.   Or the Pet Shop Boys doing You Were Always On My Mind.   

Deborah Cox, however, I was not familiar with.  I knew who she was, but that was about it.  So I can’t compare what she’s done before with what she’s created on Destination Moon.   But now that I’ve heard her on this CD, I’ll certainly be exploring a little more of what she’s done in the past. 

I DO love jazz, and Dinah Washington is my favourite jazz singer, with a beautiful voice, never over-the-top, strong and sultry, with just enough sugar to be perfect.   For me, her songs celebrate who I am as a woman.    When I listen to Dinah and her knock-out voice, I get to cry about my broken heart, I get to be sad about things and move on, I can be mad & still find it in me to forgive, I get to laugh at myself, I can feel nostalgic, I get to be strong and face the music (ha!), I get to be in love and feel the rush.   It’s like Dinah says to me:  Hey, Chantal, I understand.  Here’s a song for ya…

All music does this for me, really, and I’m sure it does the same for everyone else.   But Dinah does it really well……    

I have to admit that jazz didn’t come into my life until a few years ago, so I’m still in the discovery phase of it.   I’m attracted to music that goes to the core of me, music that makes my own heart sing, and this CD is now one of my favourites.   Deborah Cox has a great voice,  the arrangements are lush and bring you to places that you might have been to already, but which are always good to go back to…..like the moon.

Love, Chantal xoxoxo

This and That

I’ve added a new page on the right….check it out.   I’m trying to add photos, but it’s really sssssslllllllooooooowwwww to download pictures.   I’ll add more, once I figure out how to do it a little quicker.

I went to the show tonight (or to the cinema), to see Sarah Polley’s Away From Her.   An outstanding movie, with wonderful quiet scenes that communicate a boatload of emotion.   Go see it, or rent it when it comes out on DVD.     It’s about a man (Gordon Pinsent) who’s wife has Alzheimer’s.  You can feel his heart breaking.   He’s a great actor.   So in the state that my heart currently is (sad & broken), I choose to go sit in a theater with about 20 other people to watch a movie about  losing someone you love, of letting go of your soulmate in the face of something you can’t control.   Might as well walk around with needles in my eyes.  Good grief.

But here’s what may have made the whole thing a little less sad.  I’m sitting there, in a theater that sits perhaps 80-100 people.  It’s Wednesday night, not a popular movie night.  I was early, about 20 minutes before showtime, so I picked the last row, center seat.  I had brought my bag of goodies to munch on in lieu of having supper.    People trickled in, couples mostly (of course, couples…… I was the only broken-hearted, single, lonely 40-year-old woman in the theater……frick…..and are broken hearts visible to others?  Really, I want to know.). 

So the lights dim down, the doors close, the movie starts.   Two women come in FIVE FULL MINUTES after the movie started, and come and sit RIGHT BESIDE ME.   There are at least 75 other seats to choose from in the theater, and they sit RIGHT BESIDE ME.  Now that annoys me.  It took most of the joy out of this movie-going experience.   I sat and stewed for about 10 minutes.  I was uncomfortable because I had to shift so as not to touch the woman’s arm with mine, because she plopped in her seat & silently claimed the armrest between us as hers.   I was uncomfortable because I was really hungry and was looking forward to eating my goodies, and now I didn’t even want to take the bag out of my purse.  (Ok, so I smuggled in some munchies that were not bought at the canteen…….).   I was uncomfortable, because I knew this was an emotionally-charged movie and I’m currently emotionally-charged and I had even found my Kleenex in my purse and had it all ready because I REALLY WANTED TO SIT QUIETLY AND CRY WHILE WATCHING THIS MOVIE!   Now I couldn’t do that because these 2 women felt they absolutely could not sit ANYWHERE ELSE in the entire movie theater except RIGHT BESIDE ME!  

I had to make an effort to concentrate on the movie.  My grumbling stomache overcame me, and I snuck a handful of Veggie Flutes…..at first I let them melt in my mouth because it was quiet & I didn’t want to disturb anyone by crunching, especially not these two women who just HAD to sit RIGHT BESIDE ME.   Then I thought, screw that, I’m crunching my Veggie Flutes, and if they don’t like it, I will politely say:  You see all those seats there?  Go find one.  Be my guest.

They didn’t complain, and truthfully, I didn’t crunch as loudly as I could have.    Once I had decided on that course of action, I was ok and I was able to lose myself for a little while in this wonderful movie, based on Alice Munro’s story, The Bear Came Over the Mountain. 

But, COME ON!  I could never see myself walk into a movie theater after the movie has started and sit RIGHT BESIDE someone when there are so many other places available….I might sit in the same ROW, quietly sneak in and take my seat, but not RIGHT BESIDE someone.  Unless of course the place is packed.  That’s different.  Maybe it’s just me. 

I finished Paulo Coelho’s book, Eleven Minutes.  I am mesmerized by this author.  I borrowed the book from the library, and it’s due back in about two weeks, so that gives me time to post something a little more worthy in the next few days.  One citation that stood out was something along the lines of “Life is too short to be unhappy.  Life is too long to be unhappy.”  That’s been skipping around in my mind the past few days. 

Today was payday, that’s always nice.   Tomorrow on my lunch break, I’m heading to the library, they’re having a book sale from noon to 4, weather permitting.  I’ve been looking forward to it all week.  After work, my Best Friend, my Prodigal Friend,  Little Soul Sister and I are heading to the local fish & chip stand for some good artery-clogging fries, then probably out for beers and laughter, and some serious catching up on what’s going on in everyone’s life…..Even though we all work together, and see each other on a daily basis, I feel a little out of the loop since I’ve been working in this resourcing job.  I have time to say Hey how’s it going, and that’s about it.   So it’s very important for me to keep up these outings together, that we stay connected.    

(Thank you for the beautiful card, Little Soul Sister…..I didn’t open it til I was alone in my car, because I knew it would be something really special…….and it was……and I cried because your timing is so bang on).   

And on a soulful note……if you haven’t checked this out already, have a listen to Jacksoul’s Resurrected.      Well, all of his albums are really good, but this one is my favourite. 

Love, Chantal  x00×0

Do What You Have To Do

 

 Sometimes, okay OFTEN, music will express exactly what I’m feeling, and I’m astounded at the power and simplicity that lies in how it does this so well.   The awesome Sarah McLachlan has mesmerized me with her ability to weave the beauty of deep feelings into her music and lyrics.   

When I was separating, I kept it private, out of respect for our children, whom we did not tell until about 4 months later (yes, I stayed in the house for that whole time).  I didn’t tell anyone, not my friends or family.  No one.  Even after we had told the children and I had moved out, I still didn’t talk about what I was going through.    A few weeks after my world began to fall apart,  my Best Friend brought me a copy of Sarah McLachlan’s Afterglow CD.    I was at work, so I popped it into my CD player, put on my ears, and the first track began.  Fallen.   The song was so poignant, it was like Sarah had been watching my life unfold and wrote this song about it.   I, of course, had a huge lump in my throat and my eyes got all blurry, so I skipped to the next song.   Later that night, in the privacy of my little reading nook at home, I listened to Fallen again, and had a good cry.   It still triggers very sad feelings when I hear this song, three years later.

And tonight, I’m dealing with loss again, and another Sarah song is being earmarked as Song of My Life At The Moment.   I thought I’d reproduce it here, because I wanted to, and it’s my blog. 

So here’s Sarah’s song, Do What You Have To Do:

What ravages of spirit
conjured this temptuous rage,
created you a monster,
broken by the rule of love?
And fate has led you through it.
You do what you have to do.
And fate has led you through it.
You do what you have to do.

And I have the sense to recognize
that I don’t know how to let you go.

Every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul.
I’m ever swiftly moving,
trying to escape this desire,
the yearning to be near you.
I do what I have to do.
The yearning to be near you.
I do what I have to do.

AND I have the sense to recognize
that I don’t know how to let you go.
I don’t know how to let you go.

A glowing ember, burning hot,
AND burning slow.
Deep within, I’m shaken by the violence
of existing for only you.

I know I can’t be with you.
I do what I have to do.
I know I can’t be with you.
I do what I have to do.

And I have THE sense to recognize
But I don’t know how to let you go.
I don’t know how to let you go.
I don’t know how to let you go. 

I’m not going to apologize for my melancholic mood, because I’m feeling pretty freaking sad right now.  I realize there are more important things going on in the world, and I’m very aware of them, and I’m not writing this to take anything away from what other people are going through, or to make what I’m feeling seem more important than someone else’s pain. 

For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to let go of the most special relationship I’ve ever had, and it’s proving to be harder to do than expected.    At times, I’m calm and serene about it, even hopeful that I can handle it.  But other times, like today, I’m frantic inside, I feel hurt and unworthy, insecure, I can’t focus and all I want is for him to hold me & tell me it’ll be ok.  But I have to do that for myself, tell myself that it’ll be ok.  And it will.  Just not today. 

The pain is ever-present like a dullness, but today the pain of a broken heart was sharp and taking up way too much space.   All this inner turmoil is exacerbated by my longing for my sweet children.   Dealing with loss throughout one’s life can be character-building and give you strength of soul that you didn’t know you had.   I know this, and I’ve experienced it, like most of you have, through the loss of parents and loved ones, through the loss of a marriage and of my family as I knew it, through the loss of this special relationship.  And I suppose that if I look upon loss as a gift, that letting go is really the path to freedom of my heart, of my soul, then I can graciously accept the pain that comes with loving.    If I don’t, I risk closing doors to love that I worked way too hard these past few years to open.   

Love, Chantal xoxoxo

P.S. Happier posts to come……..