THE KISS OF LIFE

 Love is difficult to define. Not even the most experienced of us can truly grasp or explain love to its truest and deepest meaning. Love is a never ending saga of experiences. It can be risky and quite often baffling. Love comes in many guises. It can be unconditional. It can be virtuous. It can be affectionate. And of course it can be sexual.

Love is really undefined. But there are three defining moments in the story of my love.

 The Kiss of Life:

The summer we met was hot and sultry; it was the kind of summer that could turn a flourishing friendship between a man and a woman into a steamy, torrid love affair. I don’t know if it was the warmer temperatures, the longer days, the later nights, or those extra summer cocktails, but by mid-August my friendship with my next-door neighbor Mark took a romantic turn. As the season began to shift so did my feelings and I felt the inexplicable thrill of falling head-over-heels in love. As summer wound down, Mark was gearing up to plunge head first into a busy work season. He had already cautioned me that his personal time would be limited from September through November, so it was with some surprise that I found him on my doorstep one evening with two tickets to San Francisco--he said he wanted to end the summer and begin our new romance with a trip to one of his favorite places.

We got to San Francisco early on the evening of August 24^th, a day which also happens to be my mother’s birthday. During the course of a year, there are two days likely to cause an outpouring of emotion for me, the first being my mother’s birthday and the second being the anniversary of her death. My heart broke the winter my mother died, and sadness was the glue still holding it together some 9,388 days later.

Summer marks the peak of tourism in the Bay area, but summers there can be cool and are usually accompanied by brisk sea winds and chilly, damp fog. Lucky for us, the oft’ anticipated Indian summer had arrived early and the evening was warm and a gentle balmy breeze warmed us as I slipped my hand into Mark’s and we set off on foot to explore. 

We strolled along granite plazas, past jazz and blues clubs, restaurants and cafes. We walked down hill and then back up for what seemed like an age and eventually found ourselves back at the hotel. I remember Mark made me laugh when he cracked a joke about his painful shin splints from the endless hill climbs--and then without warning I began to cry. It was the sort of crying that doesn't easily stop and threatened to put a damper on the weekend. I wanted to say it's not me crying, it's my soul. But the words were not there.

That night played out like a scene from a movie; I the broken damsel and Mark the accidental hero. But by morning my heart and soul were home. In an unlikely hotel room in San Francisco, I was kissed and left breathing. And without speaking a word, he said, I am here and I will always be here.

The Saddest Goodbye:

Mark had a dog. Sparky, a pure bred Dalmatian, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and was simply spoiled rotten by Mark. In his eyes, she could do no wrong and in her eyes, I was the evil step-mother. Let’s just say that life was interesting when we moved in together.

One summer when Sparky was a senior, her legs began to give her problems and we noticed after long walks that she would have difficulty getting around the next day. Sometimes while eating, she was unable to control her legs as they would spread-eagle from a standing position into the splits. Then one morning, after going outside to use the doggy bathroom, she never returned and we found her stuck on the steps leading up to our house, her legs painfully spread-eagled. For the next two weeks, Mark lovingly carried her up and down the steps to her bathroom whenever she needed to go. Horribly, we realized her life was beginning to fail.

Sparky was extremely anxious with vet visits, so after much discussion we made the decision to have a local vet come to our home to assess her and to put her down if need be. It was a sad and difficult day for Mark.

The vet examined Sparky and confirmed what we had already realized. It was time to say goodbye. With tears streaming down his face, Mark got down on the floor with Sparky and cradled and stroked her like a baby as the vet gave her the needle and she took her final dying breaths. Watching from the doorway, I saw the pain and misery in her face lift as she looked into the eyes of her beloved Mark and for a moment, I felt what she felt, he is here, he will always be here.

 

The Unexpected Gift:

One evening back in April, Mark and I were sitting around our outdoor fire pit drinking wine. The day had no special significance other than it was Friday and we were together for the weekend after a week apart. I remember thinking to myself that after ten years together, we are still happy. Now I'm not one to confuse happiness with pleasure. Happiness between two people has more to do with effort, endurance and achievement.  Our relationship has become spacious and generous over the years; expectations are few, if any; life is good.

Mark is extraordinary. He has inner and outer strengths not always discernible to the average crowd. He is quick to temper and also to forgive. He is steadfast and has a tendency to be over-generous. When he smiles, I can feel it. He is my love, my best friend, and my soul mate.

Later that night Mark casually suggested we get married. His proposal was an unexpected delight. He spoke just three words, but what he said to me was, My heart is with you and I promise to always love you. With you I want to live. I am here and I will always be here.

 

 

Ramblings of a Beach Bum

Life is just better at the beach, isn’t it? The beach where doing absolutely nothing is doing something; where flip-flops and sun hats are the bare necessities; where sand in your toes is heavenly; where real life is always painted with the ethereal glow of the setting sun; where the line between fantasy and reality is shaky at best.


I recently arrived home from a holiday at the beach in Maui where it's simply impossible to get away from the notion that life is indeed better at the beach. Not only are there signs everywhere supporting this, but the people who live there swear by it and even the tourists believe that their few weeks a year at the beach is the embodiment of paradise itself.

So what exactly is it that makes life better at the beach? A Google search reveals countless theories on why human beings love the beach so much, but rather than go off on a boring scientific tangent, I decided to canvass a few of the locals in my beach neighborhood at Vaseux Lake for their expert opinion:

• When I asked my partner-at-the-beach Mark what he enjoyed most about being here, he replied that he loved the slower pace of life and the amazing view.  I tend to agree with him. 

• My grandson Odie, he’s five, responded that he loves feeding the ducks, the noise (not quite sure what exactly he is referring to here, but then again he is only five), paddle boarding, and the view. The view is getting rave reviews so far. 

• My neighbor down the street who’s lived here forever responded with a jubilant “Hakuna Matata”...there are no worries here, so don’t worry, be happy.” I like it and now I've got a song stuck in my head to boot.

• A regular, local fisherman about to head out in his boat grinned widely when I asked and said “I’m not at work…pure bliss.”  

• A visitor to the lake who happened to be walking by my house one evening and perhaps thought I was a little odd for asking, responded with "life at the beach screams summer at its loudest, regardless of the time of year."

• And nobody says it better than Zac Brown "I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand, not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand. Life is good today, life is good today." 

• As for me, life at the beach means something a little different; I like it for long runs alone, the almost National Geographic element of wildlife observed on a daily basis, and at night time, the stars come out and put on an amazing light show. 

For most of the year, warm water gently laps up onto our little lake beach often leaving small treasures behind, like the tiny Painted Turtle which washed up on it last June; or the large island of cattails which appeared on it as if by magic one Saturday morning right after I had wished for some cattails of my own the night before. Life at the beach is like that…magical...and maybe therein lies the answer to the question. 

Is it possible the beach weaves its own special magic on us all differently so that individually we are uniquely tinged by our exposure to it?

No matter the reason, life at the beach is good and definitely magical, and surely we all could use a little more magic in our lives.

So if you find yourself with your toes in the water and your ass in the sand then you're lucky enough to be at the beach and life is good today!

Breaking Up Is Not So Hard To Do

Dear Vancouver, I’m breaking up with you. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, it’s just that my desire to be somewhere else is much stronger.  I really think we should see other cities or towns. Very soon. Like right now. After I’m done dumping you. Maybe we could just be friends?

You know this has been coming for a long time, and you really must believe me when I say I really do hate to see it end like this. As you well know, I like to write things down, so here are just a few reasons why this can’t go on:

• Your house prices are completely wacky and have become disconnected from reality. Basically, the price of real estate and the cost of living is too high, while pay is simply too low.

• You’re too moody in a very rainy way. Morning drizzle, lingering showers, and full-on rain just downright puts me in the doldrums. I know this was never a problem before, but since I’m somewhere new, where rain is a rare “event”, I’m much happier.

• You have the worst traffic jams in North America. Just sitting on your gridlocked streets can bring me to tears. I really can’t deal with it anymore so I'm trading in my car for a canoe.

• You have no soul. I can't feel your happiness when I am constantly stuck in a long line-up or a traffic jam. Angry people have turned your once warm heart into a superficial, empty shell.

• Our relationship is suffocating me; you are much too overcrowded and overdeveloped.

So there you have it, Vancouver, we’ve had an on-again off-again relationship for almost 30 years. But after leaving again for the fourth time, I’ve come to the realization that it’s really over this time and I’m never coming back. 

Yes I’m the first to admit that in the eyes of the world you’ve been a pretty good place to live in the past, however, the growing list above has given me a strong urge to stray and I know I've strayed before but this time I've found somewhere where I can live free and unrestricted; somewhere where the sun shines warmly and there's never any traffic chaos (and I do mean never); I've found a place that really makes me feel alive. Yes I know that perhaps I’m still in the honeymoon stage of this new relationship, but my heart just can’t take this constant breaking-up and then making-up anymore!

I know I'm making it seem easy, and to be honest it wasn’t too difficult with Vaseux Lake sitting pretty and waiting for me in the wings. I do think the space between us these past few months has been good for me though I know you took it rather hard. The minimal contact we did have was necessary to deal with the practical aspect of things like moving out, signing papers, etc. Thank you for enabling me to keep our visits short and civil. 

Of course a stage of denial is completely natural during times like this, no matter who instigated the breakup, but acceptance is the key to being able to move on. I have accepted and embraced my new life at Vaseux Lake and I hope you can move on quickly too. There is no benefit to holding on to heartache and regret.

Please don’t try to tempt me back again, it won’t work this time. When I find myself in a weak moment and missing you, I will pull out my list and ask myself “why would I want to go back and torture myself again?” I did the right thing getting as far away from you as I could. Our relationship was no good for me!

I’m sorry, Vancouver, that we are done; our relationship was unique and special in a lot of ways but I’ve made up my mind and Vaseux Lake is “the one” I want to spend the rest of my life with. Here I feel renewed, revitalized and prepared for a whole new wonderful life. 

Vancouver, there will always be a special place in my heart for you and definitely if you're ever out this way, be sure to look me up.

Regretfully,

The Unnamed Lake

I came across this beautiful poem the other day by Frederick George Scott and just had to share:

THE UNNAMED LAKE

It sleeps among the thousand hills

Where no man ever trod,

And only nature's music fills

The silences of God.

Great mountains tower above its shore,

Green rushes fringe its brim,

And over its breast for evermore

The wanton breezes skim.

Dark clouds that intercept the sun

Go there in Spring to weep,

And there, when Autumn days are done.

White mists lie down to sleep.

Sunrise and sunset crown with gold

The pinks of ageless stone,

Her winds have thundered from of old -

And storms have set their throne.

No echoes of the world afar

Disturb it night or day,

The sun and shadow, moon and star

Pass and repass for aye.

'Twas in the grey of early dawn,

When first the lake we spied,

And fragments of a cloud were drawn

Half down the mountain side.

Along the shore a heron flew,

And from a speck on high,

That hovered in the deepening blue,

We heard the fish-hawk's cry.

Among the cloud-capt solitudes,

No sound the silence broke,

Save when, in whispers down the woods,

The guardian mountains spoke.

Through tangled brush and dewy brake,

Returning whence we came,

We passed in silence, and the lake

We left without a name.

Frederick George Scott