I hate it when I've had thoughts and I can't get them out or remember them later. It usually happens as I'm trying to go to sleep and I think of some fabulous thing to write and think that I will remember it in the morning. I hardly ever do. And if I do, it's just the concept or idea and not the fabulous words that I had used to define it the night before.
Last night on the way home I was listening to the CBC. There was this young woman on (man, I sound old saying that "There was this young woman, I remember when I was a young woman") who did a piece on making pies with her mum and what she remembers of the farm in Alberta with her parents and her gran. It was nicely done. Calm and intentionally. It went into her mum's kitchen in the city and it was a recording of her and her mum talking. Near the end she was asking her mum if she missed the farm and the "glory days of harvesting". Her mum didn't miss it cause it was hard work but she liked having the skills from then even though she isn't using it. She felt like she fit in, in the city by making herself fit in wherever she is. She keeps the skills from before as something in her in case she ever wants to do it again. You have to press forward in the place where you are and learn new skills. The reporter saw it as more of a shadow of before.
I like sitting at the lake. I wish I had more time to do this at this time. I was really hoping that this would be a chill kind of time but I've been thrown into everything so quickly. Means that I'll have to make the moments that I have count, but then that's sort of the point of having a down time, that you don't need to put pressure on each moment to actually mean something. It's a mass of time where nothing is really happening but "being". I love the sound of the familiar bird calls. They're different here from in Japan. Even Victoria sounds different from here. Here is calming and quiet. The whole day could pass by, by just being and taking in all that surrounds you. I really should open my curtains more. I was gong to go outside and sit in the sun, but when I stuck my foot out the door the sun disappeared behind the clouds. Isn't that always the way.
