Who Loves ya Baby?

March 5, 2012

Sitting on some rocks by the ocean bay near Kate's house.  The wind is strong and cold but I don't mind it.

I'm so happy to be here, I needed a vacation intensely.  Reconnecting with Melissa, Kate, cousins, and myself.

I'm paying attention again.  I should just move here already.  That would be great. But first, I must master the nest I'm trying to create in Montreal, and enjoy what I have going on there for a little while longer.

     The ocean is so calming for me.  I needed it.

                     

                                  Katie

                                       Love.

That is the first entry of the journal I just finished.  I have finally filled the inch-thick black book full of secrets and thoughts and love stories.  

Today, Valentine's day, has practically caught me by surprise.  Would have been a normal Sunday had it not been for the inescapable hoopla that surrounds this time of year.  Luckily I've been invited to a dinner tonight with some extremely great people I am happy to know here in Toronto.

I worked hard at my Montreal nest.  I gathered, I explored, I collected, I decorated.  I bought, I painted, I nailed, I stored, I cleaned.  I messed.  I cleaned again.

But there was always this feeling that there was more for me, somewhere unknown that beckoned to me from beyond the Great Bagel I call home.

It started when I was little.  The stars offered me this freeing opportunity to dream.  To make me look upward and gaze into the unknown.  To imagine the most wonderful outcomes to life.  To think that anything is possible.  The moon gave me someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of, to beg for guidance, to yell at when I was angry at everything else.  The most peaceful source of comfort in my night.

Movies made me a dreamer.  A hopeful romantic.  A writer.  A lover.

And life... gives me a place to put all this stuff into practice.  To try shit out on, a platform in which I can weave mystery and chaos and hope into.  Somewhere to grind it all up and see what kind of weird creation I can make.  The pieces don't always come together, and I have a lot of doubts, but when I return to that inner child, the one who wonders and believes in beauty and chance, it all becomes possible again.

My last entry was about love.  The deepest kind of love you can have.  The kind of love that only lucky people get to have.  The one that's yours to give.  The one that's yours to show, or not show to others.  The kind that involves absolute openness and vulnerability and an absence of consequence.  The love that belongs to you deep inside your heart.  The one you keep protected.  The you of your depths.  The you that is wholly perfect and wholly damaged too.  Your soul, if you'll let me take this that far.

It's a scary place to go to and an overwhelming place to be.  But I figured hey, it's Valentine's Day so why not venture in?

There's this spunky troll that keeps this place safe.  It guards the valve, the gate, the door, the tap.  You have to do a very specific jig and tell the troll she's beautiful for her to open the door.  And when it opens, it's very suddenly clear to you that you have two options.  Run, or run with.  Because every little flaw, every little thing that you hate about yourself or your life story is going to come pouring out, and for the sake of this metaphor, they're bulls.  The anxiety bull, the insecure bull, the anger bull.  There's lovely bulls too, but they're still scary as hell because they're bulls and they're running at you.

So.  Do you run away screaming and crying and shut that valve up or do you run with, and laugh like a madman because it's all part of the fun?

From the last page of my journal:

This is literally the end of an era.  Four years later.  This journey is over.  Allow me to use this as an opportunity to begin again.

To know myself better.  To know my inner depths, and to allow myself to run with the bulls for a little while.

Amen.

      Katie

                 xox

               forever.

Beach House,

K.