The Place I Live

Now I'm back in Calgary. I stayed a few days later than planned and didn't have time to ride my bike home. I've got a Forest Tate show on Saturday to rehearse for with Evan. I'm going back in a few weeks to pick up the bike.

I'm not sure how long I'm going to keep doing this blog, but I'll keep it up for a while, until I have time to figure some stuff out.

My head is all over the place right now. I'm really having a hard time with the word "home". I got to the place I pay rent to eat, sleep, and take the odd shower tonight and felt really out of place. My room is a time capsule of who I was a month ago.

To be honest, I had a little panic attack. Not a regular occurrence for me. Here I am an adult living in a dirty house with street signs as art on the walls. Don't get me wrong I love the guys I live with (I don't use the L word flippantly), but this isn't where I should be. Add to this feeling that the city outside my front door doesn't feel much more inviting.

Talk about feeling the burden of the past. Old receipts, concert and hockey ticket stubs, pictures. All gone now. In the trash.

I have a bag that contains most of my gifts from last Christmas. It's been floating around my room since I moved into this place in January. I forgot what was given to me. A couple books. Some chocolate that has probably turned grey by now. A really nice maple, copper, and steel carpenters square from my dad. And this quote, written on the wrapping paper of one of my dads gifts:

"Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is the realization that some things are more worthwhile than fear and that some people are worth loving even though it costs us everything. Perfect love casts out fear."

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There was a young mother traveling with her infant daughter on the same flight I took from Comox to Calgary. We were through the security check waiting to board the plane. Her family was on the other side of the glass in the airport terminal. No sound. Mouthing words and trying to read lips.

"I miss you already."

"No! I love you more."

Sadness hiding behind big smiles. Screaming in silence. My ears hurt, but it was quiet.

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Can you feel so good, it actually hurts? Real pain?

Maybe that's why saying goodbye hurts. Not from the sense that you've lost something, but the recognition that you were close to The Good in another. The experience of KNOWING someone. Being understood. What's better than knowing you are understood?

This whole thing isn't just about existing. It's about loving. Something I think I could fall into everyday.

Hey, I'm going to throw out that word "home" for a little while. I don't have one. I'm homeless. And ok with it. There are worse things to be. As long as there are people to say, "I miss you already" or "no, I love you more" to from time to time, that would be nice.

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The guitar is done! I'll post pictures soon.