Walk along Beach Blvd

My friend, Jackie owns a house on Beach Blvd.  She's got quite a few interesting projects on the go.  We went to see the progress of construction at the house, then took a wander down the beach.  Twas a lovely evening...

Both Sides

Image courtesy of chomikuj

I think Joni Mitchell had it right. 

"...and now my friends are acting strange.

They shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed.

But something's lost and something's gained

in living everyday."

There is a part of me who is very, very conservative.  I love to stay home, clean the bathrooms, and do my laundry.  I like to prepare home-cooked meals from leafy greens and protein-rich grains.  I drink the same coffee from Starbucks nearly every single time I go there.  I like to read.  I like the idea of living in Ontario.  I like the idea of roots.

And there is another part of me who throws caution to the wind: who hitchhikes in France; who gets stuck in the snow in Croatia; who follows a couple from Asia to Europe at midnight in Istanbul to get to a mouse-infested hostel.

I like staying put, growing roots, planting myself firmly in one place.  I also like packing a red backpack and venturing out to a new place.  Something is lost and something is gained, surely.  It's a fine line; a fine balance.   

Image courtesy of All Things Stylish

It's a balance and that's all it is.  It's a life.  As Frank Passaro used to say, "It is what it is."  It's not any better and it's not any worse.  It's not any bigger and it's not any smaller.  It's the choice I make everyday to explore something new or relax in something old.  Either way, it's growth in some direction.  Because every single time we make a choice to stay or go, uproot or extend roots, we are growing...

and we are improving.

Sigur Ros - Glósóli

Orating

“Traveling- it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller"

- Ibn Battuta

the presence of God in everyday life

Seth and I once talked about the top three things we think about on a daily basis.  My second choice was the presence of God in everyday life.  What are yours? 

I've been asking a lot of people about their belief in God, how they feel about religion, and if things just happen or if they happen for a reason.  Even for the non-believers, it's hard not to admit that at times it all seems to happen according to a grand scheme orchestrated by a universal force.  It's not that I question my own beliefs, it's just that I like to know how others view these things. 

Here's what Jack Kerouac has to say about it...

And all this time Dean was tremendously excited about everything he saw, everything he talked about, every detail of every moment that passed.  He was out of his mind with real belief.  “And of course now no one can tell us that there is no God.  We’ve passed through all forms.  You remember, Sal, when I first came to New York and I wanted Chad King to teach me about Nietzsche.  You see how long ago?  Everything is fine, God exists, we know time.  Everything since the Greeks has been predicated wrong.  You can’t make it with geometry and geometrical systems of thinking.  It’s all this!”  He wrapped his finger in his fist; the car hugged the line straight and true.  “And not only that but we both understand that I couldn’t have time to explain why I know and you know God exists.”  At one point I moaned about life’s troubles—how poor my family was, how much I wanted to help Lucille, who was also poor and had a daughter.  “Troubles, you see, is the generalization-word for what God exists in.  The thing is not to get hung-up.  My head rings!” he cried, clasping his head.

On the Road, Page 108-109

Camping?

Image courtesy of kvelv

You might know I'm not a camping fan, but there is something in me today that tells me that my next adventure should involve a big backpack, a sleeping mat and bag, and bandanas for my hair.  Crazy?  Perhaps.  But doesn't it just look so organic?  I'm loving organic these days.

   

berrys

Image courtesy of Bippity Boppity Boo

My father and I had what turned into quite an emotional day yesterday.  Without getting into the specifics of the journey, I think I am suffering from an emotional hangover even today.  Sigh.  Some days are tougher than others. 

Anyway, we passed six (SIX!) signs advertising "blueberrys".  I thought it was hilarious.

Ontario makes the sweetest fruit..it's one of the reasons I love being home at this time.  Seriously.  I bought a HUGE container of "berrys" (ha!) and have been enjoying them on just about everything: oatmeal porridge, yogurt, and in protein pancakes (thanks for this recipe, Leanne).

Loving those antioxidants.

The Red Cottage

Hilary and Derek invited us to stay at her parents' cottage for the long weekend.  After a not-particularly-gruelling drive out of the city, we were in cottage country: slow-paced strolling; used book sales; mullet-wearing middle-aged folk donning wolf-smattered t-shirts.  Love.  

There was a lot of soul-searching up in the clean air, the cool water, the gravelly roads.  There were big conversations that changed my perspective and surprising visits from people who shed some light on subjects and projects that made us both shocked and introspective.  Maybe that's what the "northern" air (Leanne hates it when I call this part of Ontario "northern") does to people: it makes us our most authentic selves.  Maybe it's all part of relaxing: we think and say things that are normally cooped up in our Very City Selves. 

Hilary was kind enough to join me for a run one afternoon.  I say "kind" because we had to get on a boat and head to the mainland to avoid the hilly, tree-laden terrain where the cottage is situated.  So off in the motor boat we went, ran, talked about image and health and friendships, and got back to the boat just as it started to rain.  Spit, more like. 

Hilary, being a true Algonquin-ite, and I being a true "tent?  You want me to sleep in a tent?"-ite, made the decision to boat or not to boat: she opted to boat.  This might have been a bolder-than-safe choice.  The rain got heavier the closer we got to the lake's centre.  Then the hail started.  Hail.  We embraced the journey...what else could we do?...as Hilary braved the steering apparatus of the motor.  

We were soaked in the truest sense of the word: our clothes were literally clinging to our bodies, water dripping from the tip of our heads to our shoes.  It was absolutely amazing.    

Here's the view the bebes saw all weekend from the deck...

 The place was just gorgeous.  Though I didn't catch a sunrise, the sunset turned the sky the most glorious peachy colour, which eventually eased into red.  Only here, folks.  Only here.

How we eats...

...and how we drinks...

And each morning, when I awoke, this was the face I saw.  Yee.  Sure, he doesn't look so daunting in the light of day, but falling asleep to his piercing eyes was more than sobering.

For the hospitality, for the company, for the enlightenment, I am truly grateful. 

Tweed

On the way to Hilary's cottage, we stopped in the cutest eastern town called Tweed.  Though it wasn't entirely appropriate to have the car running, kids and parents inside waiting, I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures of what I saw to, you know, capture the moment.  There is something so magical about moving north from Toronto: something so rustic and authentic.  It's a very organic life.  I found the most joy from the elderly mother of twins who demanded we answer, "When is this heat going to BREAK?" and then ordered a hot dog in a buttered bun.  Holy class.  It was a swooning moment.

Unfortunately, we are going to miss the Elvis Festival in Tweed, happening at the end of August.  It's the small things in life, folks.

I haven't the slightest what's going on with the next two pictures.  Any thoughts?

The Lumineers - Ho Hey (Official Video)