Walking between Worlds

2012-01-01T12:19:00.002-06:00

I am overcome by grief.
Not for him. For myself.

Why do I keep on deluding myself even when I know that I'm playing a dangerous game?
It is fear that keeps me coming back for more. Fear of my own majesty.

This time there is no land to light on.
I don't need to be rescued.
I trust myself.

2011-12-31T10:07:00.002-06:00

2012 ushers in a new beginning. An end to old patterns that have kept my life on hold. This demanding time requires honesty, humility, trust and self-love.

He said he wanted a new start to a new year. I do too. He uninvited me from his New Year's festivities. I am on my own. Again.

There is no rock to cling to. I am adrift.

I know this terrain. Intimately. I've been here before. Many times. It doesn't get easier. It's just more familiar.

2011-05-24T00:42:00.001-05:00

live long
live life
live long and prosper
live an orderly life
an ordinary life
an ordered life
live a long life
live and let live

2011-05-22T00:20:00.004-05:00

In the grand scheme of things,
an acorn and an oak tree are indistinguishable.
We contain the seeds of our greatness
and of our own demise.

I had no idea there were tears just below the surface
and that they would spill when he touched me gently
in the soft and wounded place
How did he know where the knife went in?

I sit alone, waiting, in the midst of a crowd.
Time stands still.

2011-03-28T07:32:00.005-05:00

Now that there are no strings, there is no struggle.
Love flows. Our hearts are open.

In my dreams, I am afraid. I call for help. Nobody comes.
People I count on let me down. I try to let go of expectations and
convince myself that I am okay but the truth finds me.

I am afraid.
I am alone.
I am on my own.

2011-01-05T09:12:00.006-06:00

Another brand new year. This time there are brand new things happening in my life. The world has paused for a few days while I recover from the flu. My mind is restless. Wild. Undisciplined. Giving in to just being and not doing has been hard but I have precisely what I need right now. Time.

I recently returned from Jamaica where I was helping a professor with her research. I was in pain the whole time as the result of a neck injury. Just before I returned home I had a reiki treatment. It was amazing. The reiki master seemed to have command over time. In her hands time was tame and obedient. I hadn't felt this calm for a very long time.

I usually experience time as the enemy that exhausts me. I can never catch up with time. The more I chase it, the more it eludes me. While I sleep, time is running. As I wake up, and even before my eyes are open, I am aware of time.

Since I have been ill my body has had to stop running. I've finally realized that time has never been the enemy. It is my own fear that has driven me.

Years ago I studied mindfulness meditation. I found it a powerful practice. Pardoxically it required an investment of the most fleeting of commodites—time. I now realize that the art of sititng in stillness is about facing my fear.

As I write this, time is a tame lion sitting at my feet. By the time you read it he may have risen up to resume his pressing journey. My hope is that I will learn the fine art of facing my fear and taming the lion.

2010-11-22T00:20:00.001-06:00

He's gone again. I knew it would end like this. I had a dream about it last night. He was driving around a parking lot, looking for me. He abruptly gave up and left. I felt a familiar sinking feeling. I tried not to let disappointment overwhelm me. I told myself it was ok. He wasn't mine anyway. He never was. I realized that I had spent my time with him in a constant state of disappointment, continuously trying to let go. Trying to not care.

It is impossible to have a long-term relationship with a lone ranger.

2010-09-04T14:06:00.003-05:00

Today I am taking things slowly. Trying to remind myself to finish each breath before racing on to the next. Steadily focusing on each task at hand. I have no idea what each moment will bring. I know that my life will be simpler now. I am about to enter the dragon to do battle. Years of intense focus. I've got to give it all I've got and emerge from the lair victorious.

2010-09-03T05:53:00.002-05:00

In Ifa, a traditional Nigerian religion, we are born into the world with a mission but as soon as we arrive on earth as a newborn, our memories are wiped clean and we spend our lives trying to remember and fulfill our destiny.

I'm facing the long road home alone again. It came out of the blue last night but I must say, it was a long time coming. I watched it descending like a slowly settling dark cloud, knowing at some point sooner rather than later my relationship would be over. He is a restless soul haunted by dreams he cannot see and a future he cannot name.

This break-up comes on the heels of my return to school, starting to teach again and a busy schedule of performances and shows. My life is about to take a right turn. I am attempting to gain control, to steer this thing that is so out of control. If I had been more there. More settled. More secure. Maybe things would have ended differently. But I cannot help anyone right now. I need to first help myself.

I saw a video of an insightful buddhist nun who said extreme self-care was at the root of compassion. I need to practice compassion for myself.

2010-06-14T21:17:00.002-05:00

Silver is meticulous. Coiffed hair. Pulled tight. Simple elegance. She carefully completes each task, striking them off her list 0ne by one. Satisfied, a half smile crosses her lips momentarily. A flicker of pleasure sparkles in her eyes. Silver lives her life within a high tower. Its unscalable walls protect her heart from frivolous pursuits. She, who knows only duty and efficiency is the envy of those whose lives are lived messily outside of the lines.

2010-02-20T21:59:00.002-06:00

A new decade of my life is on the horizon.
In preparation, I have taken up hot yoga.
Each class I wander through the desert.
My only thought is to get out.
The only way out is through.
Every class feels like this.
My challenge is to get myself to class.
Once I arrive, instinct kicks in.
I give it my all. I leave nothing for later.

2010-02-08T09:24:00.004-06:00

It's been years since I've felt so clear. I finally see a vision of my evolving self, all the pieces are coming together. My team, my cheering section, my mission taking form as I evolve.

I am thankful.

2009-12-20T11:29:00.004-06:00

My life has taken an unexpected turn. As the year comes to a close, I am no closer to completing my graphic design program but I finally found the missing link I've been pursuing for the past year and a half.

A stroke of good fortune enabled me to attend a residency at Banff last week. It was short and sweet and I am left reeling with new insights and ideas. But best of all, I have set a course to pursue a new structure in my life that will enable me to do my work. I've also been blessed with mentors who have invested in my personal and professional life. The trick will be to overcome all the distractions that could prevent me from fulfilling my destiny. How do I stay the course?

My primary distraction is email. Whole days get diverted and swallowed up by constatantly responding to my inbox. I am compelled to check and I feel anxious if I don't. This disrupts the flow of my thoughts and keeps me from doing my work.

Just like any addict, I will have to battle this enemy one moment at a time.

2009-11-16T14:57:00.005-06:00

My graphic design program has come to an end. But I am still slogging away—finishing the portfolio I missed out on completing when I left town for 6 weeks to teach in the summer. I love what I am doing. I have new tools to stretch the boundaries of my creativity. New tools that constantly change and shift in a digital world that evolves at lightening speed. My working life has always been in flux. Unstable. And now what I am searching for is stability and sustainability. A place to root myself so I can grow. I'm dazzled by the array of intimidating jobs and the seemingly effortlessness with which the proficient designers wield their craft. Every day I do battle with my demons who tell me I'm not good enough. Every day I fight despair as I watch my debts mounting. I try to stay focused and just do my work. According to Steven Pressfield who wrote an amazing book called The War of Art, the most difficult part of the journey is at the end when the prize is in sight. I am on my way home and this time I will let nothing stand in my way.

2009-09-29T21:20:00.003-05:00

My inner critic constantly bombards me with messages that make me feel incompetent and unworthy. No matter what I achieve he cleverly sneaks into my consciousness and tells me that I didn't do anything to deserve praise. I am an imposter. I do not belong. I will be found out.

On rare occasions, as he lunges at me with his quiver full of poison darts, I catch him before the deed is done. Sometimes I am able to protect myself by running away. It never occurred to me that perhaps this gremlin, as I refer to him, offers me a glimpse into myself. He tells me the thing I most afraid of--the thing I have the most resistance around. Resistance almost always guards the door to greatness. Instead of running away, what would happen if I face the dragon head on and do the thing he says I can never do.

Maybe he's telling me where the treasure is hidden.

2009-09-27T07:34:00.003-05:00

My boyfriend commented that by my own admission Miss Canadiana was a fluke. He's right. It IS a fluke. My job as an artist is to recognize the flukes. To value them as a gift from the divine. To step out of their way. To nurture them so they can come into being.

Through this project I have learned so much about myself -- about life. It has taken me into places I'd never dreamt I'd go to and I've spoken with people who otherwise would never have listened to what I had to say. I am infinitely grateful that this fluke has chosen me as its vessel.

2009-09-13T05:39:00.007-05:00

September always makes me feel like I should be starting something new. This year I toyed with the idea of accepting the spot I was offered in the graduate program at York. I almost did.

I stood amongst people half my age, their shiny faces full of hope. But as always, I found myself challenging the bureacracy. I have little patience for boundaries and rules that try to contain and categorize me without knowing or caring who I am.

Now I am back in the graphic/web design program I started at the beginning of the year. It is much more intense than I anticipated. I love it.

2009-06-02T19:03:00.002-05:00

Life has a way of doubling back on itself. I am traveling through familiar territory glimpsed from a distance in another life. I am studying in a full-time graphic design program. This was to be my contingency plan. I thought I would do this while I made plans for my real life. But I was crushed when I received a rejection letter from the graduate program I had hoped would play a pivotal role in my future. I have been offered a spot in another grad program but I realize I'm enjoying where I am.

2009-05-03T21:05:00.003-05:00

Today I found out a friend died. He was so full of life. So full of wonder and reverance and joy. I had the pleasure of presenting his work and getting to know him. He always included me in his emails to tell his friends what he's up to. He came to town. I didn't go to see him. He invited me to his birthday party. I did not attend. I was always busy. Maybe in some other future I would find time. Well, time ran out and I wish I could dance with you and laugh with you and celebrate your ninety plus years on the planet. Juan, you are an inspiration. You've taught me to pay attention to the little things that big things are made of.

2009-01-01T08:52:00.003-06:00

Its 2009. A brand new year. I've been dealt a blow lately—bad news about my health and I'm going through difficult financial times. Not a great hand to play. I have learned that I have incredibly supportive people in my life. And I know that in the dark days ahead, I need to stay in the light and turn towards the positive. I need an anchor bigger than myself, bigger than the challenges I will face this year.

I've been thinking about Joy. Its my middle name and I've always loved it. Such a simple word. Such a wonderful and contagious state.

Looking back on my life, I realize that I've been cautious. I have never fully embraced what I love. I've given in to the voices inside and out that contradict what I feel. I've lived on the fence, in the margins, not in the driver's seat.

This year I am ready to throw caution to the wind, declare my committment to joyfulness and really live. Happy 2009! May your life be full of Joy.

“Live life so completely that when death comes to you like a thief in the night, there will be nothing left for him to steal.”

2008-12-30T07:47:00.002-06:00

I went for help today after another sleepless, restless night. At the emergency department of the hospital the doctor said my abdomen was full of fibroids and I may need a hysterectomy. "It wasn't like you were planning to use that uterus anyway". Her kind student looked into my eyes. He left the room and knowingly came back with tissues. He spoke softly to me as if I still mattered.

I haven't been well for a long time but I deluded myself into thinking that if I could only find the right diet, the right herbal remedies I'd be okay. My poor uterus has had a traumatic life. After several surgeries, she's had enough.

2008-12-28T22:34:00.002-06:00

I'm restless. Sleep eludes me.
My mind is a tangled jungle of constantly streaming thoughts.
I am exhausted.

About a year ago I set out on a journey.
So strange how all year I saw the same people,
the same places—and though nothing has changed, I am utterly lost.

Friends and lovers beckon me but my gaze is fixed beyond them.
My life is unraveling in plain sight. I am invisible even to myself.

The alarm bell has rung.
My body is calling me to attention.
I need to get help.

2008-12-09T13:00:00.002-06:00

It's the end of the year. A disappointing year. I've been pondering why I haven't achieved the goals I set out for myself—most of them financial.

I've lost my fire. I've lost my way. And without a vision that excites and motivates me, its impossible to generate change.

I've always been a big believer in finding my way home by following the breadcrumbs and yesterday I finally found one. A big one. It was there all along but I'd brushed by it trying to make my own path.

A friend who is in the final stretch of his PhD came to visit me. He encouraged me to go back to school to do a graduate degree. I felt myself coming back to life, the fire rekindling inside of me. I've always been a person who craves intellectual stimulation. A few hours before my friend arrived I was telling my mom that if I was a senior who had no financial woes and could go to school free, I would do my PhD. It was no accident that my friend came to me to lay this idea on my heart.

2008-11-17T19:44:00.002-06:00

Self-love. Of all the kinds of love that exist,
this is most difficult one for me.
I constantly give away my power.
Bit by bit.
Self-sabotage.

Love is a place half-way between your world and mine
We create it together. We nurture it. And it nurtures us.

I am alone again. I always was.
I watch false hopes fade away
And I am left with myself.

2008-11-16T23:13:00.003-06:00

Once I was on top of the world and now I remember that there's a hole in my heart—a person shaped hole, calling to me loud and clear.

2008-11-14T23:05:00.004-06:00

I open my heart. I ache to pour out my love. I yearn to be embraced. But not just by anyone. By you.

I recognize you from the past or maybe from the future. When I look into your eyes I know that you know who I am. But you're afraid. I can't reach you. And I don't understand. Why are there are soldiers standing guard? Indifferent. I struggle to remain open. To allow myself to be vulnerable. To feel. Pain and joy are two sides of the same coin.

2008-11-13T00:28:00.002-06:00

I am watching a friend throw out the concept of love
and everything that comes with it in order to love again.

After an eternity of flatness,
I am once again riding the wave.
It comes out of nowhere
Disturbing my tranquility.
Knocking me off my certainty

I am not sure that I know what love is anymore.
I am not sure I believe it exists for me.

What do I know?
I know that I am a loving person.
I know that I deserve love.

2008-11-11T22:45:00.002-06:00

I am in get a job mode. I've just accepted a small contract within the arts but I am reminded that to make the kind of living I want, I may have to work outside of the arts. I am ready. Finally. Despite my fear of letting go of everything I've worked so hard for as an artist, I am finally ready to move on. This is not a sad goodbye. This is the beginning of a new commitment to myself.

2008-11-03T23:05:00.000-06:00

Today I have no words.
I surrender to You my grief.
I surrender to You my pain.
I am finally feeling the depths of what I could never name.
I sit with regret, anger, loss. At times, I am swallowed by fear.

2008-11-02T07:46:00.007-06:00

I had a dream last night.
I was trying to find a place to hide.
I ran into an underground grotto,
and lay still.

In my longest relationship, love flowed.
There was always enough.
Loving and trusting, my heart wide open.
The more I shared the more there was.
Will I ever love like that again?

When I give my heart to another,
and love does not return,
I feel lost. Hungry.
I crave wide open plains, mountain tops, vast seas.
I am enclosed in a small space.
I am running out of air.

2008-11-01T20:45:00.005-05:00

I am overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information coming at me every day, lovers who hold me at arms length and the weight of an expensive city for which my income is woefully inadequate.

I am afraid to fall apart. Afraid I won't be able to get up in the morning or pay my rent. Falling apart is a luxury I don't have time for. At least, that's what I've been telling myself.
Instead, I create personas to do the things I can't face. My latest persona is writing all my reports, cleaning my apartment and organizing my life. These things are daunting to me. She never complains.

A friend suggested I take a mini vacation right at home. Shut off my phone, lounge around in my bathrobe and watch movies all day. Mmmm. Delicious.

2008-10-31T08:04:00.001-05:00

Kim Cattrall plays Samantha, a character I love in Sex and the City. She's vivacious and doesn't let convention stop her from expressing the fullness of her sexuality and going after what she wants. My favourite part of the movie is when she talks about her most important relationship, her 49 year relationship with herself. She explained that nothing can come between her and this relationship.

My lover revealed yet another layer, another piece of the puzzle of our shared life. I realize, once again, that I live in the land of wishful thinking. Don't ask and it won't hurt. I confront my delusions in small doses. And as they fall away, and I see more clearly, the reality that surrounds me is an alien world. His world. He does not trust anything resembling the world he left behind. His love for me can only thrive here, within these boundaries, inside this subterranean space. His space.

2008-10-29T22:07:00.009-05:00

I met a woman on a plane two days ago. It was clear to both of us as we sat together that our meeting was no accident. She was in a state of burnout. I could see her pain. I am intimately familiar with the requisite guilt that comes from letting go of caring for everyone else and turning my energy inward to care for myself. As I spoke to her from my lived experience, I heard a wise woman saying things I didn't realize I knew. I said these things because she needed to hear them. What I now know is that I needed to hear them too.

It has been said that loneliness is feeling full of love without anyone to give it to. There are words I will never hear from my lover. There are experiences I will never share with him. What do I do with all this love? The person shaped hole in my heart aches to be filled and here I am aching to give.

Take good care of yourself my friend. You draw energy from the source for others but have never stopped to take a drink yourself. I hope you realize that all along, you've carried the secret of life within you.

2008-10-21T23:44:00.002-05:00

I'm back home—the home I longed for when I was away. My home has high ceilings and elaborately carved wooden doors and window frames. Its shabby beauty hints at a luxurious past. This place is a pecarious perch. My future does not live here.

2008-10-16T22:44:00.003-05:00

"Are you a princess?" A little tyke with golden curls and wide blue eyes looks up at me—earnestly awaiting my response. Yes, I answer and I can tell that you are a princess too. She walks away satisfied. A real live princess spoke to her. All's well with the world.

Tonight I sat alone at a restaurant. As I savoured a glass of wine and a salad I thought about the little girl and all the other little girls both young and old. Girls of every colour and culture whose faces light up when they see Miss Canadiana. Girls who believe in her and breathe life into her and know that they are beautiful because she reflects who they are.

Thank-you Miss Canadiana. When I look in the mirror and I see your beautiful face, I know who I am.

2008-10-15T21:01:00.003-05:00

I am in a comfortable hotel room in Victoria. Even though I am working, I am trying to relax. Stop running. Care for myself.

In the last few months I've been thinking about my relationship with failure. Sunny summer days spent in my parent's basement studying math—a subject I hated and failed over and over again. Throughout high-school I was forced by my parents to take advanced math so I could get into university. Every year I failed. Every year I had to go to summer school. I felt like life was passing me by. A feeling that has never left me throughout my adult life. I watch as other people live and love and I feel like I am not enjoying my life. I'm always rushing here and there. I spend every moment working. No time for myself. No time for leisure.

I failed the conservatory of music grade 6 theory exam when I was 14 years old. From 9 years of age, I studied music. I could play whatever anyone else in my class could play. But I could not read music. Nobody knew until that fateful examination day. That was the end of my music lessons. I was found out. I was a fake. Nobody marveled at my ability to play by ear. The message that wrapped itself around me and followed me til this day was that I am incompetent.

What do I have to show for the work I have done in my life? I don't have a family, a house nor even a car. These things have never been the measure of success for me but now I am realizing that securing the ground under my feet will help me to reach my goals. I've been thinking about passion and direction but without security, my life is not sustainable. I am finding it hard to continue. I need a measure of material success in order to soar to new heights. I am working at my practice but I'm not doing my best work. I want to be and do the best that I possibly can be. I want to shed the blanket of failure that has enveloped my life.

2008-10-13T23:36:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I participated in an event in Calgary—a run through the Glenbow museum. It was an exhilarating experience. The 5K route consisted of running four times around the four floors of the building. After the first lap, I was sure I could not make it to the end. But I did. Thanks to the people cheering and the group spirit. I felt like I could do anything. I need that kind of cheering section in my life. This incredible group spirit, people who told me I could do it. People that model to me what I am capable of because they're running beside me.

Support is so crucial in the game of life and so is passion. What propels me forward?

2008-10-12T09:33:00.002-05:00

Self-love. Its the only thing that will fill this person-shaped hole in my heart. This kind of love doesn't depend on anyone else. Nor does it depend on circumstance. So why is it so illusive—the thing I lack the most?

Pisces has been called the sign of self-ondoing. I watch with dismay as my internal critic strips me bare of my confidence. Again and again. I reach out. Searching. Looking for love. Trying to fill the hole. Unaware of the never-ending source inside of me.

My body is calling me to task. I need care. I need love. And there's nobody here but me.

I'm watching intently at close range as two of my friends dig into life. Voraciously. Shaping their worlds. Making things happen. They're both passionate men committed to themselves. Daring to seize the day and go after their heart's desire. Both, at times, express doubt, but they keep on going, pushing past difficulties. They're driven and fed from that never-ending source inside.

What do I want? What is my heart's desire?

2008-10-11T11:15:00.003-05:00

I live in a world built for speed—rushing from one thought to the next. Walking up escalators, rushing past life. Don't stop. Don't look back. Keep going no matter what. It's taken its toll on me. My body is rebelling. Refusing to cooperate. I'm on a the road right now and my stomach is unhappy with my schedule of long commutes across the country by plane, train and automobile, endless hotel rooms and unfamiliar food. I can't make it comply. I can only beg and cajole and give it tender loving care and hope I will get through what I need to do. And long for my safe return home to my too busy life.

2008-10-02T00:04:00.003-05:00

I feel full of love whenever I return from Jamaica. Full of the lilt of familiar voices, the music, the shock of impossibly vibrant flowers and the sea. Especially the sea. I feel full when I create a piece of artwork that acts as a bridge where folks can meet. My last piece included my brother, my sister and my dear friend. I felt full and overflowing and grateful. Those are the moments when I feel truly alive. The times when I am most myself. These moments are so rare. So few. Yet these are the things that matter in my life. How do I make more of them?

2008-09-17T22:02:00.004-05:00

Today I ran into my first love. He was about to try on a suit he was buying for his wedding. When we were young, we imagined living together. Happily ever after. I felt the familiar ache of longing. Ever since I started thinking about the person shaped hole in my heart, I have become increasingly aware of my attempts to fill it. Dull the ache. Food, booze, men, pleasing people... Now I realize that marriage would not have filled the hole. I would have been married with a hole in my heart, still longing for something I couldn't put my finger on.

How do I nurture myself? Fill this hole? Where did I put those missing parts of myself?

2008-09-16T10:50:00.001-05:00

I'm letting go of a lover. Not because I want less love in my life but because I want more. Once a month the monogamous man would call me. Each time I made time for him. Not this time. After an entire year he still has no idea who I am. His world is all about himself. I often wonder why he calls. Why does he feel the need for me when he sees himself as a proudly self-sufficient island. He tells me he's building an empire that takes all his energy. I guess I am a soft place to land. He expects me to be satisfied with what little he can give. Be patient. Things take time. Wait for me. Wait for the day when I can miraculously dismiss the guards at the door to my heart.

I had dinner with a friend yesterday. Our conversation was about love. About longing. About that "person shaped hole in our hearts" as another friend put it. Last night it occurred to me that what is missing in my heart is me. My heart is an open place. A vulnerable place. A place full of longing. I try to fill it with whatever I can get from my lovers but I always feel an ache. A need to be filled.

I am reading a book written by a woman who died at 40 years old from ALS. She watched her body become inoperable but she lived. She loved. She challenged those around her to value themselves. She spoke about Dorothy who travelled to OZ to find the secret to live that would make her whole only to discover she had it within herself all along.

So this is the secret that has eluded me all my life. The hole in my heart can only be filled with more of me.

2008-09-12T09:38:00.004-05:00

I went to a poly meeting a few days ago. It was not what I expected. Ordinary people sat around talking about something extraordinary—their sexual selves. They were courageous, vulnerable, funny, sad, searching. What I loved was their honesty, their openness, their desire to grow, explore and communicate what they were experiencing. In a society where sex is so taboo, powerful, codified, dangerious, it's risky to move beyond assumptions. It struck me that anybody in a any relationship could benefit from this level of community discussion. I felt at ease although the poly life is anything but easy.

I grew up in the church and early in my life I questioned what I was told. Why is a newborn baby sinful because it came into the world as the result of a sexual act? Who gave this institution the right to control my sexuality? In fact, who gave anybody that right?

There is the idea of freedom and choice. And then there is the reality—the gritty and awkward and defiant way of living a life beyond the boundaries. My reason for going to the meeting was to find out what people did with their hearts. What I realized as people introduced themselves and spoke about their lives was that everyone had their hearts intact. Poly life was not about giving up on love as I had feared—quite the opposite. One man spoke about finding more not less love when his partner became involved with another lover.

2008-08-23T10:37:00.002-05:00

I am used to hiding my emotions. My longest relationship was with a man who was as accommodating as I was. We built a cozy world where we could hide from ourselves, from each other. Don't rock the boat. Towards the end, our cocoon became a prison and all I thought about was freedom.

I feel raw right now. Open. Alive. I am learning to take the mask off. I am daring not to run away. Will you tell me anything I ask? Will you tell me things that in the past I would rather not know? Will you expect absolute honesty from me? Can I look into your eyes and still remain myself?

2008-08-20T17:09:00.003-05:00

I've just returned from a rare and incredible journey with a fellow traveler. We opened up intimate details of our lives. Worlds shrouded in half shadow. Shedding shame. Questioning everything. Laughing. Crying. Listening.

Something has shifted inside me. I noticed it when I realized that although I am still thinking about love, I am no longer focusing on the perfect man but on the perfect moments. Thank-you my friend. May we share many moments together.

2008-08-05T10:16:00.003-05:00

My heart is a tender place. I am overflowing with love I want to share with another. Why is it so complicated?

I have followed the non-monogamous man down a path that feels precarious. Full of surprises —delightful and scary. He is capable of holding me in his heart but he is afraid of the chaos I cause in his carefully carefree world. Lately he has been cautious, occupied by other adventures. I tell myself that I can/will deal with whatever comes my way, his non-platonic lovers that can spring up at any time. He watches as men compete for my attention. He encourages me to be open. He tells me I am free. But what about my heart?

The monogamous man I was seeing before has come back into my life. The one who calls me once a month. The one whose heart is like ice, who does not know how to hold me close nor what to do when I tell him I am lonely and I need intimacy. I know that he is lonely too. Why is there such a wide gulf between us?

2008-07-27T13:32:00.003-05:00

My feet are leaving the ground but I can't/won't stop. Not this time. I just concocted a delicious plan. Impossible in its design. Demanding. Exciting. I feel giddy, poised and ready for take-off. Its time to make a decisive move and let the chips fly where they may.

2008-07-26T23:43:00.002-05:00

I can't stop thinking about Jamaica. The crime statistics are staggering. The rate of unemployment is high. But the country is incredibly beautiful and it is calling my spirit home.

2008-07-22T23:51:00.002-05:00

I just came back from five weeks in Jamaica. As always, I've left a part of my heart there. Upon my return, I am in mourning. This time I have a strong desire to find a way to spend some real time there. I want to know this part of myself that I catch a glimpse of each time I visit.

2008-06-16T06:54:00.002-05:00

Monogamy has its rules. They're more often broken than not. Apparently over seventy percent of men and fifty percent of women cheat yet we cling to the idea of everlasting love.

That's the preamble. What's the reality? He is on a path and I am walking beside him. Where does it lead? I've always thought of love as a verb, not a noun. Its easy to say, this small and simple word but it's meaningless when contradicted by actions.

He seeks intimacy and he's more than capable but its a challenge for me to remain open, honest—allow myself to be vulnerable when there is so much at stake. All I wanted was someone with whom to share my life. All he wanted was freedom. What IS freedom?

2008-06-03T19:56:00.003-05:00

What does freedom mean? Freedom from what? Freedom to do or be what? I have a loving family. Close friends. I have a lot of love in my life. But I write because I'm hurting and I find it hard to ask for what I want/need when I don't even know what I need.

2008-06-03T19:52:00.001-05:00

I've been flirting with the idea of non-monogamy. But only because of him. Otherwise, I would not even think of going there.

2008-05-18T14:29:00.003-05:00

He is freedom personified. No strings. I hold him close, but not exclusively. Love in all its complexity still eludes me.

Last week I comforted a woman whose heart was hurting. She finally admitted to herself that what she wanted was a partner, a home, a family. She feared how people would see her at her age wanting these things. Little did she know that she unleashed an avalanche inside of me. I can't stop crying. I can't stop yearning.

I'm finally ready to share my life. I'm ready for the security I thought would be boredom. I'm ready. Is it too late?

2008-05-12T20:07:00.003-05:00

It is no accident that this man whose face is as familiar as my own has chosen this moment to appear in my life. I've seen him for years. We've spoken on the street. At a party. At a distance. He disappeared for years and just moved back to the city. In stark contrast to the man whose heart is closed as tight as a fist, he is a warm embrace. He makes me remember who I am.

2008-05-04T20:13:00.003-05:00

Looking at his face is like looking in a mirror. Gentle. Sensitive. His embrace has the power to heal. I savour the moment. Now is all that matters.

2008-04-27T22:01:00.005-05:00

He invited me over again. Once a month. And every time I go, I feel a sadness that threatens to engulf me. Whose sadness is it? Mine? His? I hear about his life in little bits and pieces. He has a brother who lives in the city he hasn't spoken to for months. He's been on his own since he was 15. He's worked hard. He remembers what his grandmother says. Rely on yourself. People are either smart or stupid. There are no nuances. He lives in a straight world. He trusts no one. He does not/cannot see me. I feel empty. Hollowed out. But somehow when he calls, I can't resist. Why do I expect, hope it will be different? Why do I look for love in places where it can never grow?

2008-04-22T23:21:00.006-05:00

Without a method, searching for a career is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Its been a long haul but I feel like I'm close figuring out a field into which I could shift gears and feel fulfilled.

My friend has read 10 books since the beginning of this year. I've read one. I felt inadequate until I realized that while she's unemployed, I've been working. Flat out. Perpetually busy. Trouble is I have nothing to show for all my labour. I don't have a job so I appear to be unemployed but the truth is, I've cobbled together a life and a living from little bits and pieces that just don't add up.

2008-04-07T00:08:00.005-05:00

I've been wrestling with my fear of letting go of the semblance of freedom I've cultivated. This is a story I tell myself. Does getting a conventional job spell the end of my freedom or could it be the beginning?

I am realizing that the only secure jobs I'd ever provided for myself made me feel like I was wearing a straightjacket. But I'm also realizing that there have been glimmers of happiness in my conventional work life when I felt trusted. When I felt like my contribution was valued. When I felt creative and free to make things happen.

2008-04-04T23:44:00.002-05:00

I am making a valiant effort to avoid sliding deep into the pit of self doubt. I've re-invented myself in the past and I have to do it again. My most decisive actions seem to come from some small, insistent voice that refuses to be drowned out by the noise of a crazy life. For the first time in years, much of the business has stopped. It's what I've wanted and needed but it feels unfamiliar. Now I know why I've kept myself so busy, so distracted. There is no way to avoid myself. Wherever I go, there I am.

2008-03-16T09:55:00.002-05:00

Its mid-March. I need a miracle. I'm tired. I'm a bundle of nerves. My jaws ache and I've been living on pain killers. It's time to step up and drive this thing called life.

I'm convinced that life delivers exactly what one asks for and trouble is, I've been grateful for the carrots dangling in front of me and I haven't asked for much. Its no accident that my friend mervin is here with me. He told me about the turning point when he asked for what he wanted and nobody quibbled. Once he declared his worth, people followed suit. Even if they couldn't afford him, they knew that he was giving them a bargain and they stepped up to give him as much as they could.

What am I worth? Time to decide so the miracle can unfold.

2008-02-29T07:55:00.003-06:00

One of my goals for 2008 is to become a teacher. I haven't lifted a finger to make this happen but I put the desire out there and I've had many requests for talks and workshops. Teaching has been exciting. I love sharing what I've learned in my life. It's been a way to connect the dots. Now I know that the sum is definitely more than its parts.

2008-01-21T11:04:00.001-06:00

This place called Love is illusive. It springs from a secret, never-ending source. It's a butterfly you can't hold too tightly. The beggar in the street is really a King. My Love, are you already here, laughing in my midst wondering when I will finally stop running away and walk towards you?

2008-01-02T00:11:00.000-06:00

It is New Year's Day and he finally called me. He is a self-made man. A self-proclaimed island. He didn't contact me on Christmas day nor on New Year's eve. I didn't intend to see him again. But he told me it was his birthday and he was alone. What could I say? The familiar feeling of emptiness clings to me as I walk out the door after he kisses me good-bye.

2007-12-31T17:21:00.000-06:00

I'm back from Cuba. I ate. I danced. I lived in my bikini and warmed my body in the sun. As the tension melted from my shoulders, I realized how thankful I am for this little bit of heaven.

It is New Year's Eve. So much hype. So many expectations. While we were in Cuba, my friend and I set our goals for the upcoming year. There are changes ahead. But as I look back I realize, I have a lot to celebrate. What an astonishing year! In 2007 I managed to hold on to the tiger's tail and believe me, sometimes it took the full force of my faith to persevere even though I was overwhelmed.

My life is a collaboration so I can't take full credit. I am responsible for the what. The universe takes care of the how. Next year I set my sights even higher. I can see the peak of the mountain ahead.

As I climb, I know I am not alone.

2007-12-11T01:06:00.000-06:00

My eyes are open. I clearly see the truth I've been pushing aside. Reality catches in my throat. I can hardly breathe. I can't talk.

"I don't want anything from anybody. I'm self-sufficient", he said. He called me every few weeks. "Sorry. I'm so sorry for not calling you". Well, keep your sorry. I've got a whole bunch of sorry saved up from the last time you called. He didn't want my "mushy" emotions. He said he had no expectations so I shouldn't either. He kept his distance. Told me since we are not in a relationship I had no right to expect him to call even though he promised he would.

I'm free again. I always was.

2007-12-10T13:35:00.000-06:00

I'm leaving next weekend with a friend for a week-long holiday. A real one. It's been many, many years since I've been on a non-work related trip.

I'm leaving after a whirlwind of shows, talks, performances and projects that took everything I had and then some. Christmas is just two weeks away, my bank account is dwindling and there is no immediate work on the horizon. I'm tempting fate. I'm testing my faith. I am leaving anyway.

I am learning that worrying takes me out of the present moment and transports me to imaginary worlds of tragic futures. I now know that most of my stress is self induced. I can't see around the corner, but I am sure that when I return, I will feel refreshed and renewed.

So come the weekend, I am outta here. I am gonna have me some fun!

2007-10-31T22:59:00.000-05:00

I'm at yet another turning point. I'm tired of working hard and still worrying about money. I need more bang for my buck. Lately, I've been reflecting on my art practice. I'm satisfied. I've done more than I ever dreamed possible and there's much more ahead of me. I love my life. I love my lifestyle. What I don't love is the lack of security.

Yesterday I spoke to a career coach. A friend hired her to help her get to the next rung on the ladder. In about 6 months, she increased her status in a competitive field, doubled her income and renovated her house. The coach told me it will cost me $5,000 to work with her. How can I make this my priority when I have no idea how I will pay my rent tomorrow? But then again, how can I not?

Today I met an artist based in New York. Museums all over the world pay him to make work. He just dreams them up and a team fabricates them. I spoke to his dream team, an artist whose expertise makes the work a reality. I've had two boyfriends whose work involved making art for other artists. Their names were never up front and centre, in fact, their involvement was rarely mentioned. This, at first, bewildered me and later on, irritated me.

I thought I was ready to reach for the next rung on the ladder. But am I ready to become the big name dreaming up work made by invisible artists whose skills far surpass mine?

2007-10-25T00:21:00.000-05:00

Fall is depening and, as usual, melancholy has set into my bones. I've moved into a new space. Bigger. High ceilings. Huge ornately carved wooden windows. A small sleeping loft is suspended above my kitchen. I've spent weeks transforming this place into the sensuous live/work space i want/need it to be. I've done my best and it reflects the love I've put into it but I'm ready for more. I'm ready for something more permanent. Something I can commit to. Stability is a word that has crept into my vocabulary. I dream about it when I wake up in the middle of the night. Scared. Worried. Wondering.

2007-10-04T23:56:00.000-05:00

It is fall. Nights and mornings are chilly and golden leaves have started to swirl but the afternoon sun is still gloriously warm. True to my nature, amidst all the worrying, I finished "The Final Frontier", the project I started this summer. Its up and running at W.A.R.C. gallery here in Toronto.

Now I can turn my thoughts to the two new performances I am developing and the three shows I will present in the next 6 weeks. My friend Sobaz says I'm like a surfer. There's always a wave that threatens to engulf me but I manage to stay on top of it. Risky. I wonder if I'm learning how to be a masterful surfer or is it as it feels to me... I'm out there on a wing with a prayer.

2007-07-25T22:30:00.000-05:00

Summer is rushing by. I've taken small bites out of the work I've set out for myself but I haven't really committed to it. Not yet. Usually that happens when flames erupt around me and I have no choice but to dance.

At times I feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the tasks I've taken on. I can't see the whole thing. It feels out of my control. But I know that at the end of the day, somehow, I will pull through and the work will be done.

2007-07-12T08:30:00.000-05:00

Its full-blown summer. I recently returned from shooting a performance/film in Aberta and I've finally carved out some space to relax, work on editing this project and create a curriculum for a class I will be teaching at Toronto School of Art from September to December.

I feel relieved. Somehow I've survived another year while teetering on the edge of burnout. My friend Tim says he's watched me do this over and over. Dizzying. One thing I know is I cannot go back to living like that. Time to stop. But how? Although I have enough money to last a few months, after September, I'm peering into a vast unknown which makes me feel anxious. Like many artists, I've been told that art is not a real profession, surely you must do something else to make a living. So I juggle multiple careers and burn out.

Curating takes a big chunk of my energy but does not pay proportionally. Community art has provided my main income and has taken more than its share of my energy. In the summer when these programs and projects are on break, I spend time recovering and searching for the energy to work on my own projects. Exhausting. Unsustainable. Time for a new strategy.

It's not by accident that at a conference I spoke at in Lethbridge, Dierdre Logue from VTape spoke about distributing artists work and creating a marketing plan while video artist, Wes Borgue spoke about how he sustains his practice by putting his videos online and earning money from banner ads. It's also not a coincidence that while in Lethbridge, I spent time with my friends Isabelle and David who both are that rare breed of full-time artists with busy, satisfying careers. hmmm. Time to put my energy into myself. Time to get organized and shift my priorities.

2007-04-25T07:05:00.000-05:00

I have a track record for crashes. I hope this one brings some positive changes. I'm struggling to keep my head above the water on this dark day. It helps when the sun is shining. I've accomplished so much in my life that I'm proud of and there's so much to look forward to. But today I am overwhelmed. No time to grieve. One foot in front of the other. Keep going.

2007-04-03T23:23:00.000-05:00

I've been reading a book called "The Rules of Wealth". Very interesting. The idea is that if you do what rich folk do, you'll become rich too. Today I realized that my decision to leave my lover, is the right one. The only one I could make and still remain myself. If I stayed, I would constantly try to change him into someone else. There's nothing wrong with his life, its just that I cannot live that life. Constantly on the edge. Precarious. Who knows what's around the corner. I've always fancied myself a spontaneous, free-spirited type of person but I realize that I need stabililty. I need something solid that I can count on. I know that whatever I place as a priority, becomes my life because that is what i put my energy and intent into.

2007-04-02T22:31:00.000-05:00

It wasn't working. Hasn't been for a very long time. I knew this but I held on. So many good things came in that small package. So many ways in which I felt loved, adored, understood. I never once doubted that I am the sexiest woman on the planet. I just looked into his eyes and I knew. He's travelled through so many worlds in his short life. I listened to his tales over and over. A loop. What's next? I'm not sure. He's not sure. His marriage, family, stability...aborted. Lots of mending to do. Rebuilding. Searching for a new self. Defining a new path. When I met him I recognized a fellow traveller. I thought we could journey together. Now I can see that the path he chooses to travel is full of uncertainty, danger and fear. I feel helpless watching him. My darling, I held on for as long as I could. I am at the end of my rope.

2006-09-15T08:25:00.000-05:00

I'm in Lethbridge Alberta with my friend Sobaz scouting locations and developing a performance/film we will do next Spring/Summer. This time away from home has given me space to reflect on what's happening in my life. I've been through a lot in the past year since the break-up of my 12 year relationship. I've dipped my toe cautiously into the waters of love. I've been burned. I fell down. I got up. I asked for a second chance. It came in an unlikely package. A man I've known for many years has come into my life. He's also recently left a long-term relationship. But unlike me, he's not cautious with his heart, nor for that matter, with his life. He is open, loving, sexy, reckless. Despite my protests, he pursued me. Despite my fears, my heart is opening.

2006-08-11T07:46:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about my age lately. I still look like I'm a "vital woman in the prime of my life" according to a lover, who thought I was ten years younger but my childbearing capacity is slipping away forever. My body feels out of control, changing shape, betraying me. The clothes in my closet mock me. They're now sorted into categories of what I can still wear and what I used to be able to wear.

I recently went on a couple of dates with a man eleven years my junior. I decided not to run away. But of course the inevitable moment came when he asked my age. I hesitated. I knew that he would frame me in a different light the moment he knew. He said, as they always do, that he didn't care. But I could see the wheels turning. Or maybe it's just my imagination.

There is so much more to me than my outward appearance. That is what my persona, Miss Canadiana is all about. We are used to making assumptions by reading the coded terrain written on the skin, the outward signs and symbols. When I am Miss Canadiana, I am a beauty queen. I assume the role. People co-create the persona by responding as if they know who I am. Hundreds of people around the world have eagerly asked for my autograph, hugged, kissed me and posed for pictures with me. When I was in my twenties, I would never have thought of doing this and I wouldn't have had the poise and confidence to pull it off. In my thirties, I would have felt I was too old but now I am defiantly, flamboyantly myself.

I smile when I think about the irony of my current preoccupation with my age.

2006-08-06T09:31:00.000-05:00

Its a long weekend. Caribana weekend. The first weekend in August marking the middle of summer. There have been two more funerals in my life. One, a friend in Jamaica, the victim of an incomprehensible shooting. Kerry was such a gentle and caring man. The whole community is stunned. When I was last in Jamaica, he brought me to beaches and dancehalls. He helped me to experience parts of myself I have never known. He was buried yesterday amidst confusion, amidst much pain, anger, sadness. He was 32 years old. The other funeral was for Miss Lou, a Jamaican icon, poet, writer and performer who told us we were beautiful; who made Jamaicanness something to be proud of, something to nurture, express, share.

I left Jamaica at 9 years old and have returned just four times. When I set foot on the island, long-forgotten memories rise to the surface. My memories are compartmentalized. Some are in places that I hardly ever access. I have a strong longing to return, reconnect. When I do, it is intense. I find it paradoxial that although I live in a city with one of the largest Jamaican populations outside of Jamaica, I have no connections with the community. My parents, living in Hamilton, about 1 hour away rarely see me. I have numerous uncles, aunts, cousins and my granny is still alive yet here I am in my little Canadiana bubble. An unformed entity, cooly observing from a distance.

2006-07-25T22:17:00.000-05:00

I decided to take a complete break. To challenge the never-ending cycle of working beyond my limit, hitting the wall, breaking down and recovering. I wanted pure pleasure.Tranquility. I had ten glorious days ahead of me with nothing planned but I worried that my entire vacation would be spent searching the internet for somewhere to go. I wasn't craving adventure, I just wanted comfort. I wanted someone to take care for me so I decided on a spa vacation. I hopped on a train headed to Montreal, and with friends, drove to St. Agathe, about an hour out of town where the clean air, trees and lakes greeted us. As soon as we arrived at the big country estate set on a hill, they gave us fluffy bath-robes and led us to lounge-chairs where we could sit all day or partake in the sauna, ice cold spring, turkish steam bath or mineral pools and whirlpools dotting the grounds. My friends left that evening and I spent two blissful days and nights. I booked a massage, took a walk in the woods and just lounged, slept, ate and read. This is the part of my trip that I choose to remember.

And here's the part I choose to forget. One of the friends who came with me is an ex-lover. This man draws me to him like a moth to a flame. I knew when I met him that he was trouble but I could not resist. I have never met anyone so intense, caring, volatile, bitter, passionate and generous. Even when he is sleeping, his pressence fills the room. I have to come up for air. He takes me to a place within myself that feels strangely familiar. It is a chaotic, fiery place that beckons me, lures me, unsettles me, engulfs me. Like so many times in the past, I end my visit to him in tears. I feel like a little girl. My strength and confidence have left me. I am afraid. I cannot explain to him what I feel. In the interest of self-preservation, I board the train head home.

2006-07-03T22:19:00.000-05:00

I started writing journals when I was in my teens. My Dad read some of my writing when I accidently left them on the dining table one night. He told me they were beautiful and thanked me for sharing my words with him. I flew into a rage. I felt uncomforable, naked, vulnerable. Now here I am writing a public blog. Baring my deepest feelings. I've been reflecting on my practice of self-reflection and I realize that writing in public yields something very different than writing in private. When I write in my private journal, I simply have to get out whatever i'm feeling in whatever order it chooses to come out. Journalling is a physical and visceral act for me. I write by hand. I have been known to tear into pages with my pen if and when the feeling strikes. When I write in my blog, I search for the essence of whatever is happening. Life seems to reveal a certain order that I could never perceive unless I externalize it to someone else. I find written text so much more concise than the spoken word but its a challenge to remain honest, open. In the moment.

I want to thank you for reading my words, for being that bridge of understanding. Only two people recently told me they read my blog. One is my sister, the other, a friend, but this knowledge that I am not alone, that someone is bearing witness to my experiences and feelings has been important to me.

2006-06-27T23:23:00.000-05:00

Its been ages since I've been in the kitchen. I love cooking but I'm finding it hard to motivate myself to cook for one. Luckily I am surrounded by Chinatown, Kensington Market and lots of good and cheap restaurants.

As always, I have many projects on the go but I've been enjoying life again. Long, lazy-hot weekends of doing almost nothing. The change in my mood resulted from my decision to give myself a break after attending two funerals in one week. One was a friend and the other, a friend's father.

On the weekend the Globe and Mail, our national newspaper, printed a glowing review of an exhibition I curated. This success was sweet, particularly because I have no theory background and I've honed my craft purely by intuition. Not knowing the rules, I am probably breaking them all the time, irreverently stumbling on fresh new ground. I've been yearning for a higher education but I am interested in so many things. Where would I start? I tend to get overwhelmed by other people's thoughts, desires, feelings. It's hard for me to figure out where I start and they end. This is why although I am a gregarious person and love to be swept away by love, I treasure my time alone.

2006-06-08T21:27:00.000-05:00

I don't know this self. Not fully. Not yet. But sometimes I feel strong. Whole. All of me is here. In one piece. Though it always surprises me just how easily a look, a word, a thought can shatter my mood. My tranquility is my most prized posession. I take tender care of it and I take life one moment at a time.

2006-05-30T20:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I felt vibrant, beautiful, sexy, indominatable. I felt like the world was mine. Men cast admiring glances my way. The sun scorched my shoulders as I zipped on my bicycle between the gallery where I am curating a show that opens on the weekend, another gallery where I work and many stops in between. I felt like finally, I am emerging from the dark cloud that has enveloped me for the past few weeks. Today I feel weak, nauseous, restless. My throat aches and my body has decided to take a holiday. I am at its mercy in the middle of this crazy jam-packed week.

An ex-lover said there was no way a man could have a normal relationship with me. I'm always running off here and there. In my too-busy life, I don't even have time for myself, much more a partner.

I used to cry every time I heard another friend is pregnant. One of my friends got married last week, another just had a baby and one is pregnant with twins. Now that I'm single, I feel like the whole world is comprised of happy couples, families, babies. I hear them giggling across the hall. I see them strolling arm in arm, hand in hand. Did the world change overnight?

2006-05-24T18:09:00.000-05:00

Clockwise, a film I saw many years ago stars John Cleese, one of my favourite Monty Python actors. When things are really tough I remember a line he says in the film that never fails to make me laugh. "Despair I can handle, its the hope that kills me." My life is like that right now. I delude myself into thinking that Al will return. He will come to his senses and change his mind and we will live happily ever after. Its easy to lull myself into fantasy but I know that this is a mirage. It isn't the way out. I need to keep going through the flames.

2006-05-23T07:53:00.000-05:00

Steve told me a story about a man in a village who had a nice horse. People complimented him on his horse and he said "oh, i don't know, it could be good, it could be bad. we'll see." One day the horse ran away and the villagers said "oh its terrible that your horse ran away." The man said "oh, i don't know, it could be good, it could be bad. we'll see." Then the horse came back with another horse and the villagers said "aren't you the lucky one, now you have two horses. And the man said "oh, i don't know, it could be good, it could be bad. we'll see." Well, the man's only son was riding the new horse and she threw him and he broke his leg so the villagers said "how awful, your son's leg is broken, now he can't help you in your field." And the man said "oh, i don't know, it could be good, it could be bad. we'll see." Then the army came through the village recruiting all the able-bodied young men and the man's son was spared because of his leg...

I love Steve's way of saying things. He has been instrumental in my life as a friend and as a life coach. He always challenges me and makes me think. Because of Steve, my life has changed. My belief in myself and my attitutde towards life has improved. I have no idea what the outcome of the present challenges in my life will be. "it could be good, it could be bad. we'll see."

2006-05-22T16:45:00.000-05:00

I went to a coffee shop in the market today. As I was getting ready to leave I saw an old lover from my youth. He looked sad, old and worn. He is thirteen years my senior. Back then he held onto me tightly. I was a butterfly suffocating in his hand. His big fear was that I'd leave him for a younger man. I did. The irony does not escape me. He has never forgiven me, still holding his pain and suffering close. I approached him to say hello. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. He obviously did not want to talk to me. He told me he had a hard time forgetting so he had to wipe out the past. I no longer exist to him. He has closed down his life so nobody can ever reach him. Nobody can ever hurt him again. It was sad to see him today twenty years after I met him. I needed to be reminded of the price of numbness and bitterness and the importance of remaining open even though it hurts.

2006-05-22T14:16:00.000-05:00

Ironically, the person who is helping me most with my grief is Jim. I am the one he grieved over. He knows the terrain itimately. He knows the way out.

Last night I had drinks with a friend, the one who used to be my life coach. Steve is extraordinary. When coaching no longer was a challenge for him, he decided to give politics a try. He succeeded where countless others have failed to even find the door. He told me that he had never met an obstacle he couldn't find a way around.

Could I say that? Not really. Many times I gave up because the obstacle looked too big but the times I gave it my best, I managed to accomplish my goals. Life takes perseverance, trust and belief in oneself.

2006-05-21T09:20:00.000-05:00

Grief comes in waves. I haven't accepted that he is gone from my life and I know that until I accept this, I cannot move on. He lives in my building and I am often working from home. Everytime I hear someone in the hall, I'm listening for him. Once I saw them together. It caught me off-guard. He introduced us. I shook her hand. We have friends in common. I struggle to face the world with an open heart.

2006-05-20T22:51:00.000-05:00

Today I woke up with swollen eyes. Jim, who insisted that I get out of my apartment, despite my protests took me to Ragged Falls, a beautiful waterfall about three hours north of Toronto. I needed to feel the rocks beneath me, the spray hitting my face, the trees surrounding me. I feel fortunate to have good friends to comfort me, to care for me. I am taking life one moment at a time.

2006-05-20T07:43:00.000-05:00

It was a tough night. My brother, who is a personal trainer, has a tagline on his emails that says "the worst pain is the pain of regret." I am battling that pain right now. It was so hard to let go, to acknowledge that its too late. I missed the boat. To realize that the biggest regret of my life is that I never had children. I keep that pain at bay by being too busy, too distracted. This time I spent alone made me come face to face with my grief. With myself. Ironically, the last man I was with wanted children and wanted me but I could not believe that he would want to be with a woman who is ten years older than him so I pushed him away. My biggest fear was that he'd run off with a younger woman. Ironically, he has. But because he was with her, I could not run back to him when I felt overwhelmed with grief so this time I had to face myself. Last night we met for dinner. I told him my realizations. We both understood the irony of the situation but its too late. He is gone and I am left holding my realization close. I hope that life will give me a second chance. This time I'm ready. This time I won't look for the exit.

2006-05-19T19:26:00.000-05:00

Tonight I said "please come back". But he didn't. Its too late. I am back in my coccoon. He is back in her arms. I had to take the risk. I had to follow my heart. I've learned a lot from being alone. I had time to think, to feel. Time to face myself. Now I can move on with the knowledge that what I want is a home of my own and a family. In the past, whenever I was in a situation where I could really have those things I ran away. I ran away this time too. No more running. No more looking for that convenient exit. I am here.

2006-05-18T16:17:00.000-05:00

When I visited Sobaz and his family last Spring, I found myself in the midst of a tornado, Sobaz and his wife rushing off in various directions, each with a kid under their arm, meeting in the middle to trade kids without missing a beat. I was fascinated. I mostly stayed inside, hiding out in their subburban Dartmouth home, making a modest contribution to the family by cooking the occasional meal. But mostly, time stretched on in front of me, time I lack when I am in Toronto. Time I need in order to contemplate my life.

My life is exciting to anyone looking at it from the outside. I travel a lot. I do interesting projects. My work is becomming recognized. I'm aways on the go...but what I feel when I have time to feel is regret. There is a place in my heart that children are meant to fill. My children. Except, I don't have any. I am sure it is no accident that my new contract position with the Art Gallery of Ontario involves doing workshops for children in schools and community centres. The little ones, bouncing off the wall one moment and hugging me the next, my heart swelling with love.

2006-05-17T23:27:00.000-05:00

My friend Sobaz from Halifax came to visit me today. He was like a ray of sunshine. Now I know that one day my heart will stop hurtintg. Sobaz challenges me perhaps more than anyone ever has. He asked me if committment to me means giving my life over to someone else, a loss of control. Why do I always look for the door? I don't know. What am I so afraid of?

2006-05-16T23:04:00.000-05:00

Follow your heart. My heart is hurting. I wrote an email that I cannot send. It says," please come back". I just want the pain to stop. I want to be strong. But what about my heart?

2006-05-07T07:33:00.000-05:00

Committment is a challenge for me. In most situations, I am uncomfortable until I know where the door is and plot my escape. I made a promise to myself to be here right now. To not run away. I find myself wandering into the future and rambling through the rooms of the past. Here, is full of anxiety.

2006-05-03T19:26:00.000-05:00

Two stones from my mother's land sit in a little alcove in my kitchen. They remind me of the jagged, red bedrock that supports the island of Jamaica. I remember this rock from my childhood. All around my grandmother's house and the surrounding land, there was a fence made of stones piled on top of each other. I marvelled at how it all fit together without mortar.

It's been a tough week. I am once again face to face with myself and this time I can't go running back. All the exits are blocked. Now that I'm single I have the opportunity to start over and build something that's mine. A solid foundation that won't slip away and crumble beneath me.

2006-04-22T01:05:00.000-05:00

Last night a film called "Race is a Four-letter Word" was presented at REEL World, a Toronto film festival. I am one of the four subjects in this film which was directed by Sobaz Benjamin, a Halifax-based documentay filmmaker who has become a good friend. Watching the film is an intense experience. We are all passionately searching for belonging within ourselves, our worlds and each other. Each of us trying to find that illusive and all-important sense of home that we need in order to heal our lives.

I have been battling with myself lately. Single again, by choice, I am struggling not to give in and fall into a relationship of convenience. I'm struggling to find the strength inside and the self-love I need to take good care of myself. I want to see myself the way I am in the film: strong, beautiful, clever, honest. It was a revelation seeing myself in this way on screen. I could hardly believe it was me. Of course, the film is only part of my story. It doesn't show my deep fear of being alone, my addiction to relationships, the insecure voice inside of me who wonders who is speaking when I stop and listen to myself.

I am so grateful that I have my dear friends Tim, who is also in the film and Sobaz in my life. Its rare to meet others who are as passionate and driven as I am about issues of race, identity and home. Over the years, we have supported and challenged each other and shared each other's journey.

The audience last night was overwhelming, reaching out, hugging, touching, sharing with us what our story meant to them, how it connected to their stories. Sobaz says "other people hold parts of our puzzle". Its all about following the breadcrumbs to find our way back home.

2006-04-01T00:08:00.000-06:00

I arrived home yesterday, after a month in the country where I spent the first nine years of my life. I'm now back in my cozy, little Toronto apartment yet all I can think of is my mother's land with its rich red earth and lush foliage. A cousin who still lives there greeted me like someone who belonged. It was as if he had been expecting me. He asked if I had come to build a house on the land. How did he know that I had thought of nothing else since my feet touched the ground?

For me, visiting Jamaica is unlike visiting anywhere else in the world. Each step, each touch, movement, sound, sight and taste has the power to awaken memories that have fitfully slept inside me since the day I left. Here, even as I am constantly reminded that I am a foreigner, I see images of myself mirrored back.

I brought home two stones that represent intent. It is my intent to find my way back home.

2006-02-20T23:20:00.000-06:00

February is the shortest month of the year. A chilly mid-winter month. A month for lovers. I'm getting ready to go to Jamaica, the land of my birth, the place my parents refer to as "back home". At first, I too thought of it as home, my compass orienting me to the world, my balm against the harshness of this new land - until I returned, fourteen years after I left.

Memory is the place where home lives. Nowhere can compare with the perfection of that mythical state. Change challenges its pristine borders but memory holds fast. As a child I left Jamaica. I've returned three times as an adult. Each time I experience loss, hope, love and recovery.

2006-01-31T01:01:00.000-06:00

January was a whirlwind. In addition to my two shows in Toronto and my performance in Calary from which I just returned, my radio documentary will air tomorrow on CBC. My life is sometimes overwhelming but I feel like I am living only when I am running at this feverish pace or at the other end of the spectrum, when I finally stop and tune into my heartbeat and the rhythm of nature.

This week I developed an intolerace to dairy. At first I wasn't sure what was happening to me, only that I was in pain and so bloated I could hardly fit into the red gown I bought for my performance. I was on a cycle of indulging then suffering. I am a vegetarian and now that I can't eat dairy, I have to consciously shift my lifestyle to a more thoughtful one. In a place like Calgary, It is tricky dining out on a vegan diet.

I'm reading Pico Iyer's The Global Soul. I relate so much to the way he sees himself and the world from the perspective of a person who is displaced, whose identity is fractured. A person who is searching for home. He speaks so highly of Toronto, this multi-culti mecca, this place of displacement, this social experiment. I have always been critical of this city but now that I have my new place, I suddenly feel a surge of affection. Since I now live downtwon I relate to the city more through my funky neighbourhood and my darling apartment. This is the first time I have ever been excited about coming home after a trip.

2006-01-08T13:01:00.000-06:00

Its been eight days since 2006 started and already I've done something I've never done before. Six months after leaving Jim I've dated two men. The second is so very sweet, sincere and ready for a deep, committed relationship but I realize that I am not. I am exhausted. I told him I need to be alone. This is the first time I have ever said those words to anyone.

Now I feel like an addict jonesing for a fix. Every moment of every day I am face to face with myself. There is nobody to distract me. Shopping for groceries and cooking is particularly difficult. At first I was not eating at all. It is winter here and sometimes the sun does not come out. On those days I feel like a black cloud is wrapping its arms around me. I am lured to my bed. All the grief and pain I have been holding at bay for so long have flooded into my world.

I have two exhibitions next week here in Toronto and one in Calgary at the end of the month. I'm always excited about travelling but now I just want to be here, in my beautiful little apartment. I have never felt so much at home anywhere. It loves me and I love it back. I feel like finally all of me is here in one place.