Ownership

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about ownership. As someone who is highly sensitive to the emotions of others, I have this habit of not only feeling and relating to the emotions and energy of others, but owning them as well. It’s sometimes so fluid it’s difficult to detach the source of someone else’s “stuff” from my own.

I have this theory (and please understand that this is based on my own beliefs and perceptions of the world) that there are varying degrees of innate intuition in all of us. We all have the ability in us to feel energy, but as is the case with the creative selves we’re born with we become desensitized or immune, exhausted by responsibility and expectation, and we abandon ship. We are influenced, I believe, by mainstream survival. If someone is overly sensitive it’s seen as weak or unpredictable so  protection is about drowning out the noise.

Last night we took the dog out for a walk quite late and on the way back into our building we noticed one of the cars in the parking lot had its lights on. We knew who belonged to the car but not where they lived. We stood around the car for several minutes trying to decide what to do. We talked about trying to get into the car but figured if we were caught doing so, the consequences would be worse than just a dead car battery. So, after several minutes of contemplation we took the dog inside.

This morning I ran into the owners of the car and told them their lights had been left on. Many others had walked by the car throughout the course of the night and morning but nobody resolved the issue or seeked out the owners. When I told him, the man turned to me and asked why we didn’t shut them off or do more to fix the situation. I told him that we didn’t know where he lived and didn’t feel comfortable breaking into the car, but I stewed on it for a minute. The situation sounds small, but there was a time in my life when his anger and blame would have sent me into a tailspin for a good remainder of the day. I would have owned it. I do still feel a sense of guilt lingering in the background, wondering if I should have found a way into the car or tried to find someone who knew him. I offered to drive him to work to help fix the situation but he declined, having called a friend for a boost.

The whole of the situation got me to a place where I began contemplating ownership. All those people that walked by and said and did nothing didn’t have to face the driver in the morning when he discovered it, and even if they did they didn’t have to own up to knowing anything. I was walking by when I encountered him and waved hello. Should I have kept my mouth shut? Should I feel guilty about a problem that isn’t mine? Last week I witnessed a terrible traffic accident and was faced with the very same questions.

It’s all a metaphor for something much bigger. It’s easier now than ever not to own or be a part of what we don’t want to see. Small scale or large, it’s more convenient to look at the world and believe that it’s problems are not ours.

Disconnection.

We decide how much ownership we take and we decide how much the pieces of each other overlap.

Community.

We are all in this wide and crazy world together.

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Cracked Wide Open

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Aching hollowed flutter

On the edge of joyful remoteness.

The pleasure cruise of a dream world full of connection.

Just at its wings,

Newness fading into familiarity.

Light peaking over the ridge of truth,

And washing away the stillness.

Washing away the ‘us’ that never was.

Beneath a faulty cloud of tenderness.

Two strangers-

Broken.

Sewn together by wounded thread and pricks of bitter disarray.

Lying naked

Before one another under a crescent of flighty jumbled words.

Synthetic laughter tainting the pleasure of happenstance.

Loneliness a size too big for perfection.

Thumping along to the beat

Of a heart cracked wide open.

The centrepiece in a world full of ruined plenty,

And carefully, shaken faith.

Positivity Project Day 5

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Positivity Project- Record 3 things I’m grateful for and 1 inspiring quote everyday for 7 days to promote a happier, more positive life.

Inspiring Quote: “Climb the mountain so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.”

Three Things I’m grateful for:

1. Country sky at night- millions and millions of tiny dancing lights on the blackest canvas
2. Smores around the campfire
3. Friends that treat me like family

I should be long in bed but I am fresh off a weekend that fed my soul a little and I wanted to write about it before I launch into a busy week. This weekend I headed north to spend time with a family my parents and I met camping about 24 years ago. They’ve known me about as long as I’ve been me and I spent my childhood either running after the three girls or being carted around by them. They now have children and husbands of their own, live in different cities (one out of province) and come together only intermittently.

On Saturday I sat at a table amongst the girls. Their mom was on the end and we were all laughing and joking and playing bingo. One man asked their mom if we were all her girls. She smiled and looked down the table. “Well those three are” she said, pointing to her daughters. “She’s more like my half daughter but she’s definitely one of the family” she explained, pointing to me. Later when they invited me over for dinner and I asked if they were sure it was okay that I crash the family affair they all laughed. Their mom bumped my arm and leaned in, “You’re always welcome here. You’re one of us you know” she told me.

I’ve spent all my time and effort lately trying to belong somewhere. It sounds crazy but I’ve been feeling, in some ways, like I don’t belong in my own life. It’s part of the reason I started the Positivity Project. I wanted to remind myself of all the ways I am lucky and loved and fortunate in my own world. I think I’ve been too easily forgetting about the good bits. This weekend I laughed until I cried, felt so much love I thought in moments my heart might burst, and remembered what that sense of belonging is like. I wanted to write it all down before I let any more of the good little bits slip through the cracks. Life is too short to let that keep happening.

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Fake

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The dust of uncertainty settles neatly.

Fragments of disarray.

In the effervescent light of summer moon

The hand strokes minutes past the hour.

Nudging consciousness-

Sweetness of an unsettled tune.

Intoxicated by the slow melodic kiss,

Of dangerously solid wake.

Dizzying realness of a broken spirit,

Pawing at the edge of possibility.

Silenced.

Disappointed.

Fake.