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Apr. 11th, 2003 11:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcThe perfect place
Laundry’s in the dryers (3 loads); this arvo my pal John and I are off to the Korean baths in Kings Cross for shhhpa treatments. It’s fantastic--for about $85 they massage, exfoliate and facial you, plus there are wonderful hot tubs and saunas. One of the tubs is a ginseng bath. I am *so* ready for some nurturing.
As of late I’m in one of those transitory phases. Or, as my Piscean soul refers to them, ick. Hate it. Poor focus, angst, crabby. I have learned through trial and error to “stay in my room until I can play nicely” at times like this. Though I’m probably much crankier in my mind than to others--I tend to seem quite distracted when I feel like this. Which some folks mistake for aloofness. More like overwhelmed, with a small o.
Truth be told, things are fine--I’m mostly homesick. Was chatting with a mate the other night about place. He’s lived in Melbourne and Sydney, as well as London, Amsterdam and Cologne (I think; somewhere in Germany). None of which quite “fit” him. I’ve lived in NYC, Oswego NY (actually Fruit Valley, but let’s not go there), Vancouver and now Sydney. And for me Vancouver is the perfect place.
I remember sitting on a bench near Sunset Beach in the Spring of 1990. I had moved to Vancouver 4 or 5 months earlier, hoping for a dramatic change in the way I lived my life by changing venue. As opposed to changing me. Much drama and several loud wake-up calls from the universe forced me to deal with me for the first time in my life. And after only a few weeks of that process I was transformed.
So I was sitting on this bench, and glanced to the right, towards Stanley Park (oh! Stanley Park!). And the range and textures of green poured over me. It’s the first time I remember in my life being both awestruck and grateful for the experience of being alive. How had I not seen the greens before? Many are the times I’ve drawn upon that moment to remind of what’s important in my life and what’s not. And what my priorities should be.
Vancouver is my perfect place, and I miss it. Somedays painfully, most days wistfully. And my time here in Sydney is making abundantly clear that I need to be there. Sydney’s great but it’ll never be home for me.
Laundry’s in the dryers (3 loads); this arvo my pal John and I are off to the Korean baths in Kings Cross for shhhpa treatments. It’s fantastic--for about $85 they massage, exfoliate and facial you, plus there are wonderful hot tubs and saunas. One of the tubs is a ginseng bath. I am *so* ready for some nurturing.
As of late I’m in one of those transitory phases. Or, as my Piscean soul refers to them, ick. Hate it. Poor focus, angst, crabby. I have learned through trial and error to “stay in my room until I can play nicely” at times like this. Though I’m probably much crankier in my mind than to others--I tend to seem quite distracted when I feel like this. Which some folks mistake for aloofness. More like overwhelmed, with a small o.
Truth be told, things are fine--I’m mostly homesick. Was chatting with a mate the other night about place. He’s lived in Melbourne and Sydney, as well as London, Amsterdam and Cologne (I think; somewhere in Germany). None of which quite “fit” him. I’ve lived in NYC, Oswego NY (actually Fruit Valley, but let’s not go there), Vancouver and now Sydney. And for me Vancouver is the perfect place.
I remember sitting on a bench near Sunset Beach in the Spring of 1990. I had moved to Vancouver 4 or 5 months earlier, hoping for a dramatic change in the way I lived my life by changing venue. As opposed to changing me. Much drama and several loud wake-up calls from the universe forced me to deal with me for the first time in my life. And after only a few weeks of that process I was transformed.
So I was sitting on this bench, and glanced to the right, towards Stanley Park (oh! Stanley Park!). And the range and textures of green poured over me. It’s the first time I remember in my life being both awestruck and grateful for the experience of being alive. How had I not seen the greens before? Many are the times I’ve drawn upon that moment to remind of what’s important in my life and what’s not. And what my priorities should be.
Vancouver is my perfect place, and I miss it. Somedays painfully, most days wistfully. And my time here in Sydney is making abundantly clear that I need to be there. Sydney’s great but it’ll never be home for me.
